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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878833">as the crow flies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofpoetsandsaints/pseuds/amortentia'>amortentia (ofpoetsandsaints)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>birds of a feather [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Magical Creatures, POV Regulus Black, Professor Regulus Black, Regulus Black Lives, essentially time travel but not actually time travel, wherein Regulus is stressed and makes friends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:47:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>41,799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofpoetsandsaints/pseuds/amortentia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourteen years after Regulus Arcturus Black goes to his death, he wakes up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minor or Background Relationship(s), Regulus Black &amp; Death Eaters, Regulus Black &amp; Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter &amp; Ron Weasley, Regulus Black &amp; Hogwarts Staff, Regulus Black &amp; Remus Lupin, Regulus Black &amp; Rubeus Hagrid, Regulus Black &amp; Sirius Black</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>birds of a feather [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800187</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>676</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First of all, a thank you to my Kind Editor, MariusAngelicaSue; your help has been invaluable. Secondly -- I am writing this for fun, which means y'all will have to suffer through copious amounts of commas, semicolons, and dashes -- so, sorry? Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Harry Potter plunged the basilisk fang into the diary, watching as ink spurted from it with the uneven rhythm of a dying heart. Miles away, something shifted. Regulus Arcturus Black, underwater, turned on his heel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus Apparated into Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, coughing up water. He fell to the ground immediately, his body shaking. He had done it -- he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>done it</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- and he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>lived</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Distantly, he could hear his mother’s voice, but he couldn’t tell if it was real or a part of the visions that kept swimming in front of his eyes. Visions; at least he knew they were visions, now, at least he had quenched his overwhelming, impossible thirst, but there was water everywhere are there were hands -- shouldn’t the hands be gone by now? Wasn’t he home? -- and it was so hard to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And maybe if he -- if he took a moment -- if he just lay down for a moment here -- he was home, wasn’t he? -- but no, something was stopping him, holding his head up, saying “Master”, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that would be Kreacher, then. A moment later he was both dry and on something soft, and he didn’t know if it was by magic or if he had just forgotten how he came to be here. He wanted to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes he saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so instead he just waited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>In his dreams -- visions -- fantasies, perhaps, Sirius stood above him, frowning, talking, and he covered his ears but it didn’t stop Sirius from throwing his every action back at him with equal parts scorn and hatred. “I’m sorry,” he tried to say, but then it was his mother, and then his father, and Merlin he’d tried so hard his whole life and he’s still given it all up and failed them. And there was Cissy, with tears in her eyes, asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>how could you do this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and there wa Kreacher holding a potion to his lips and saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>Master needs to drink and he will sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he couldn’t drink more of that potion, not when the awful thirst had just left him, but he drank it anyway and in a few moments there was nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He woke up slowly, to the sound of someone muttering. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite catch the words, which floated out of his mind like wisps of cotton. He cracked open his eyes, but there was nothing above him but his ceiling, and the voice in his ears, though incomprehensible, was not his family. The visions had passed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He’d done it, then, and lived. And now… well, now he wasn’t sure. His plan hadn’t included living. He would destroy the locket, of course. The Dark Lord would notice his absence, but that was fine, so long as he couldn’t be found. It wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone if he went missing. So long as he swore Kreacher to secrecy, no one would ever know -- unless his mother had noticed his entrance, but he could find a way to deal with that. It was fine; it had to be fine. He’d done it, and he’d lived.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He focused on the words again, pleasantly surprised to find he could hear them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“But it looks and talks like Master, it does,” he heard Kreacher mutter. “But it can’t be kind Master Regulus, it must be a trap.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Kreacher,” Regulus said, sitting up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Upon hearing his name, the elf perked up, looking over at Regulus. “Master Regulus is awake! But no, no, Master Regulus is dead, he cannot be back, this is a trick to get Kreacher to spill family secrets, Kreacher won’t do it, he won’t,” Kreacher said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus looked at him, annoyed. He may have been intending to die, but it was pretty clear that he hadn’t. Besides, no one else knew that he had left; someone impersonating him to steal family secrets would be ridiculous. “Do you have the locket?” he asked, choosing to ignore the elf’s ramblings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Kreacher’s eyes widened. “It is Master Regulus! Only Master Regulus knew about the locket, yes, Master has come back for Kreacher, but Kreacher has been a bad elf, he could not destroy the locket --”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Kreacher, calm down,” Regulus ordered. “It’s only been a day, we’ll figure out how to destroy it together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Kreacher stared up at him. “Master does not know?” he asked in such a shocked voice that Regulus felt his pulse jump.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“What don’t I know?” he demanded, staring at Kreacher’s baffled, mournful expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Master Regulus has been gone for fourteen years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus’s blood ran cold. Fourteen -- it wasn’t possible. He had drunk the potion, he had been pulled down, and he thought he had died but then he had been alive, and he had come home. There was no way -- fourteen years?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Kreacher, don’t lie,” he snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Kreacher is not lying, Kreacher would never lie to kind Master Regulus, Kreacher has been a bad elf for upsetting Master Regulus, he should be punished --”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No, Kreacher, stop,” he said, getting out of bed and beginning to pace the room. A few steps in and he stumbled, his legs giving out. “Help me,” he said to Kreacher, and the elf supported him as he walked back and forth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fourteen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so many things could have happened in fourteen years. “Is mother dead?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Yes, Mistress died less than a year after Master went missing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Who owns this house? Does anyone spend time here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Master Regulus owns this house now that he is alive, otherwise it went to his blood traitor brother. No wizard has come here since Mistress died,” Kreacher answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Okay, that was good; for now, he was secret, and this house was secure -- if Sirius had avoided it for the past decade, he certainly wasn’t going to come now. And Sirius was alive, which meant that even though the Dark Lord couldn’t die he still hadn’t won.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Kreacher, what’s the state of the war?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“The Dark Lord disappeared twelve years ago, yes, he was defeated by a child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Disappeared. Disappeared, but not dead; the locket was proof of that. And defeated by a child? What did that even mean?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Kreacher, I need you to get me books about everything important that’s happened in the last fourteen years, but you can’t get caught. Don’t tell anyone what you’re doing and definitely don’t let anyone know I’m alive.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Kreacher disappeared with a crack, and Regulus made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a few books on his way out. Now that he was lucid, it was clear that the house had been unlived in for some time, even with Kreacher’s care. As he passed through the entrance hallway, he noticed the large portrait of his mother that has been hung since he’d last left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“And where have you been?” she demanded. “Abandoning your mother in her old age, leaving her to waste away in grief, only to reappear fourteen years later?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He didn’t know what to say. “Sorry, mother,” he finally said, before disappearing into the kitchen. Grabbing some food, he looked through the books on dark magic that he had brought, re-finding the places they had mentioned horcruxes. Still no instructions on how to destroy them. Putting them aside, he pulled out a potion-making book instead. If he was going to do anything outside of the house, he was going to need a disguise. Luckily, the house was extremely well-stocked when it came to potions ingredients, particularly those used in Polyjuice Potion, although he’d have to buy more bicorn horn if he wanted to make a second batch. The only real downside to Polyjuice was how long it took to make, but he suspected it was probably for the better, in this case; he needed time to catch up on current events and recover from the ordeal in the cave, not to mention the fact that he had no idea what his next move was going to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Before he could begin preparing the ingredients, Kreacher reappeared, wobbling beneath a precariously stacked pile of books. Regulus hurried over, taking some of them and setting them on the table before sitting down heavily. His eyes scanned the titles automatically, halting when he noticed one entitled </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Death Eaters: Tales of You-Know-Who’s Closest Followers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Shifting the other books aside, he pulled it out. Photos of Death Eaters in Azkaban formed a border on the cover, but front and center --</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He looked older; Sirius looked older and angrier, and there was a mania in his eyes that was startlingly reminiscent of Bella, whose picture was in the top left corner. But it was undeniably him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Why is Sirius on the cover of this book?” he asked, his voice level. There had to be an explanation -- he was an auror, maybe, who had caught them, or a spy. A spy: that sounded right, and that’s how they must have gotten the story, from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Kreacher muttered angrily. “He went to the Dark Lord, yes, he betrayed his precious blood traitor friends,” Kreacher explained, but Regulus was hardly listening, just flipping through the book to the part on Sirius Black. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>What more infamous Death Eater is there than Sirius Black, right hand man to You-Know-Who? We all know the tale: sorted into Gryffindor, the young Black was vocally against his family’s inclination toward pureblood supremacy and the Dark Arts, an act which he kept up well into the war. In school, he became the best friend of James Potter, only to betray him and his wife Lily, as well as their child, to You-Know-Who, not realizing that that would be his master’s downfall. His master detroyed and his deception revealed, he was confronted by Peter Pettigrew, only to murder him and thirteen Muggles in broad daylight. But who really is Sirius Black?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Sirius Orion Black was born in 1959 to Walburga and Orion Black… </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“This isn’t true,” Regulus said loudly. “He wouldn’t -- he wouldn’t betray James. Not ever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Sirius had left them, Sirius had </span>
  <em>
    <span>abandoned him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, all because of their family’s beliefs; Sirius had cared more about James than he had his own brother; and apparently he was supposed to believe that despite all of that, Sirius betrayed James to the Dark Lord. He read the paragraph again, his blood boiling, and then put the book down. So Lily and James had been the Dark Lord’s downfall? Or, given what Kreacher said, their child had? James, of all people. Of course it had to be James. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>It was always James. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He closed the book, setting it back down on the table, picking up </span>
  <em>
    <span>Modern Magical History</span>
  </em>
  <span> instead and searching for anything on the Dark Lord’s defeat. James and Lily Potter -- their son, Harry -- October 31st, 1981 -- You-Know-Who, vanished. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>So. He had been gone fourteen years, the locket hadn’t been destroyed, Sirius was in Azkaban for betraying James Potter, and James Potter’s one-year-old son had single-handedly ended the reign of the Dark Lord. If this was the afterlife, it was certainly far stranger than he had expected. And if not… well, he supposed he had some things to figure out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus carefully poured his completed Polyjuice Potion into its containers. Another potfull sat on the counter, halfway to completion; when one was supposed to be dead, it was always smart to be prepared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He paced around the room, nervously re-checking himself. His robes had no identifying features, he had his wand, his appearance was immaculate -- not that it mattered, given the potion he was about to take -- and the locket was resting safely on the table. He had tried to destroy it in every way he could think of over the past month, to no avail. He needed help. He reminded himself that destroying the locket was his first priority; not ending up in Azkaban for life (or dead, if the Death Eaters got to him) was only his second. And if Dumbledore believed him -- because honestly, who else could he go to? -- he might just end up getting both. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Kreacher appeared with a crack, brandishing a bag full of hair. “Kreacher has returned with the nasty Muggle hair for Master, yes, Kreacher has done as he asked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Thank you, Kreacher,” Regulus replied, taking the hair from him and mixing it into a small portion of the Polyjuice Potion. He waved his wand over it, and the mixture turned a deep red. He took a swig, wincing as a familiar burning sensation filled him from the inside out and his skin began to bubble. He looked down at his hands and watched as his pale, long-fingered hands transformed into one that were broader and tanned. The Muggle had a scar along the outer edge of his left hand, and Regulus wondered idly how he’d gotten it. He pulled up his left sleeve and ran his fingers along the arm’s unmarked skin. Shame curled in his gut, but he couldn’t tell if it was for having a Dark Mark or for not having one, so he pushed the sleeve back up. The remaining bit of potion he tucked into his robe pocket as he headed to a nearby mirror, hoping he wouldn’t have to drink any more today. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He’d asked Kreacher to find someone of similar age, which he’d accomplished, and his hair was the same deep black it had always been, even if it was cut far shorter. But his dark brown eyes and the smattering of freckles across his face were startlingly different from Regulus’s own appearance, not to mention the more square shape of his face and nose. Regulus’s robes, tailored to him, now fit decidedly less, in part due to the fact that this Muggle was shorter than him. He pulled out his wand, attempting to levitate one of his books, and was relieved when it worked flawlessly. A moment later, he felt foolish for his relief; there was no reason that being disguised as a Muggle would take away his magic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He glanced at his watch -- now that he thought about it, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a family heirloom, but he doubted that anyone would notice -- and resolved to take the potion again in fifty-five minutes time, if the need arose. “Goodbye, Kreacher,” he called as he stepped out the door before turning on his heel and Disapparating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He reappeared in a Hogsmeade alleyway, and confidently stepped out into the daylight, where a fair number of people were milling around, going about their daily business. Merlin, it was nice to be in sunlight again. Ignoring the people of the town, he headed toward Hogwarts. It was strange seeing the grounds of Hogwarts so empty. Term had ended, but not long ago enough that the teachers wouldn’t still be there, finishing up their work. He wasn’t entirely sure that they left Hogwarts over the summer, regardless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He had made it all the way to the courtyard before he was stopped by Professor McGonagall, whose hair was down in a loose braid and who was lacking her usual witch’s hat. Had it not been for the years spent concealing his emotions, Regulus might’ve stared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Can I help you?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I was hoping to speak with Professor Dumbledore,” he replied smoothly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“For what purpose, might I ask?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Job interview,” he lied. “Defense Against the Dark Arts.” It would’ve been his first guess anyway, given the job’s tendency to lose teachers after a year, but he’d been having Kreacher bring him copies of the Prophet, and hadn’t that been a scandal: Chamber of Secrets opened, teacher with irreparable memory loss, and Harry James Potter at the center of it all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>McGonagall looked at him for a moment, her gaze unreadable. “Very well then,” she said, finally. “I’ll show you to his office.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Nervously, Regulus followed McGonagall as she led him down the corridors. He’d never visited the Headmaster’s office, himself. It had always been Sirius who’d gotten in enough trouble to do that. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure where it was. Eventually, she stopped in front of a stone gargoyle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Chocolate orange,” she said clearly, and the gargoyle stepped aside. She led him briskly up the stairs and knocked on a heavy wooden door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Come in,” called a voice from inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>McGonagall opened the door just wide enough to allow herself to enter, stepping inside briefly. “Someone is here to see you for a job interview, Headmaster,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Ah, well then. Let them in, we were just finishing up in here.” McGonagall opened the door wider and stepped aside to let him pass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The room was spectacular; had he not been facing the presence of Albus Dumbledore, Regulus would’ve been so distracted he could hardly move. As it was, he could focus only on Dumbledore, who sat at a desk directly in front of him. Across from the headmaster sat another man. As Regulus watched, they rose, shaking hands and muttering thank yous, and the man stooped down to pick up his briefcase. Regulus stepped forward into the office, mentally preparing what he was going to say. The man turned, heading toward the exit, and Regulus saw his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing here?” he blurted before he could stop himself. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hadn’t he just been thinking about how well he could conceal his emotions? Hadn’t he spent his whole life being taught to not react, to not be uncouth, to be appropriate? A fraction of a second after he said it, he forced his expression back into his practiced mask and tried impossibly to stand up straighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Remus Lupin stared at him, looking fairly baffled. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked after a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No, I’m sorry, I… thought you were someone else,” he lied. Lupin shot him another confused look, but left the room without comment, and Regulus turned back to Dumbeldore. The man was staring at him with a critical, searching gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Typically job applicants send an owl, rather than just showing up to my office,” he commented. “And, I’ll admit, most of our professors were students at Hogwarts themselves, but I don’t have the foggiest idea of who you are, Mr...?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus paused, considering. He could give his name now, perhaps making him more believable, or he could give a fake name. “Brown,” he said eventually. “But I’m not here for a job interview. I have information that I believe would be beneficial to your cause. In addition, I need your help.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore sat down in his chair, placing his hands together in front of him. “And tell me, Mr. Brown, what cause is it that you are referring to? I am involved in a great many efforts.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“The Dark Lord is not dead. Defeated, yes, temporarily, but not dead. I want to kill him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>A flicker of something passed over Dumbledore’s face, but it was gone before Regulus could identify it. “Sit,” he said, gesturing at the chair across from him. Regulus took it, but remained perched on the edge of his seat. “What makes you believe that Voldemort is not dead?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Sir, do you know what a horcrux is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore looked at him levelly. Any trace of the gaiety that Regulus remembered from his time at Hogwarts was gone from his eyes. “I do,” he responded simply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“He made one. I -- I thought I was going to die retrieving it, but I lived. I can’t destroy it, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore’s eyes widened slightly, but for the most part his expression remained unchanged. “And how,” he asked, his voice almost eerily calm, “did you find out about this horcrux?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes before his potion wore off; he had fifteen minutes to convince Dumbledore not to turn him in. “I was a Death Eater,” he admitted. “I stopped supporting him, obviously,” he added quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I suspected as much. Most people don’t go around calling Voldemort the Dark Lord, after all. Rather curious timing, that you should show up with a horcrux eleven years after Voldemort vanished. If you knew about it all this time, why didn’t you come to me earlier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus winced slightly. If there was any part of his story that was hard to believe, it was this part. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remember what he wanted to say. “Fourteen years ago, I attempted to retrieve the horcrux, assuming I would die in the process. The horcrux was retrieved, but I died -- or, I thought I died. It felt more like blacking out for a moment. And then, a moment later, I was awake again and I managed to Apparate home, only to realize that it had been fourteen years. This was a month ago,” he finished. “I needed time to brew some Polyjuice Potion so that I could go out without being recognized, and to figure out what had happened while I was gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>To his credit, Dumbledore didn’t even look surprised when he heard the story, although Regulus worried it might be because he didn’t believe it. He sat in silence for so long that Regulus almost began talking again, but eventually the headmaster spoke. “If I ask your name, will you tell me this time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Regulus Arcturus Black,” he said, and he heard a loud gasp from beside him. Glancing over, he saw Phineas Nigellus staring at him in disbelief. Dumbledore followed his gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Well, Phineas? He says he’s been home, has anything changed at Grimmauld Place?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You know I don’t go there much anymore, Albus, it’s been so empty since dear Walburga died, but let me think… hmm… I do believe I’ve heard a bit of increased activity, yes, although I just chalked it up to the old house-elf.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore, apparently satisfied, turned back to Regulus. “Show me this horcrux.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus nodded. “Kreacher!” he called, and the elf appeared with a crack.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Master has called?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Kreacher, please bring us the locket,” he said, and Kreacher disappeared. Upon his reappearance, Dumbledore cautiously took the locket from his hands, examining it delicately. “Thank you, you can go,” Regulus said. Dumbledore was now ignoring him completely. He glanced at his watch. Only a few minutes left, not that it mattered now that the headmaster knew who he was. After a few moments, Dumbledore stood, placing the horcrux on a small table before taking from his wall a shining silver sword. Regulus stared in disbelief. He couldn’t possibly think that just hitting it with a sword would work. But as Regulus watched, he lifted the sword over his head and stabbed down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>It bounced harmlessly off the locket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore returned to his seat. “I believe you, Regulus Black,” he said. “Although I think this particular horcrux will have to be opened before it can be destroyed. I trust that you don’t mind leaving it in my possession for the time being?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Everything in Regulus’s body itched to say no. He had nearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span> for this, he couldn’t just let go of it without it being destroyed. “Of course not,” he said instead. “But, sir, do you think that a sword is the most effective way to destroy it..?” he asked, as tactfully as he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>For the first time since he’d entered, Dumbledore smiled. “This sword is imbued with basilisk venom, the only substance that I know of that is able to destroy horcruxes.” He paused. “You’re very clever, to have figured out what this is. I will have to hear the details of your story another time. I will do what research I can about this horcrux, as well as other methods of destroying it. I suggest you do the same.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>As Regulus opened his mouth to respond, he felt his skin begin to boil as he returned to his real appearance. Dumbledore took in his appearance, looking thoughtful. “I’ve looked in all of the books I have access to. They don’t have anything about it.” Dumbledore waved his wand and Regulus only had a moment to brace himself before several books flew into his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You can start with these, then,” he said. “I will call on you soon. You can use my Floo, if you don’t want to take more potion,” he added. “Good day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Good day,” Regulus responded automatically, shuffling over to the fireplace. He threw in the Floo powder, which was in an ostentatious silver container not unlike the one at Grimmauld Place, and stepped inside. “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,” he said clearly, and stepped out of the fireplace feeling more confused and trepidatious than when he’d left home this morning. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>It was two days before a spectral phoenix appeared in his home and spoke in Albus Dumbledore’s voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come to my office</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Floo is open. No need for Polyjuice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>It was too soon. Clearly Dumbledore hadn’t believed him, and the Aurors would be waiting for him as soon as he walked in. It only made sense; who in their right mind would believe a Death Eater who had been missing for more than a decade causally handing over the Dark Lord’s horcrux?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>On the other hand… there were the books. And that thing with the sword, which would’ve been ridiculous if Dumbledore hadn’t believed him. And, unfortunately, Dumbledore was his only hope. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus braced himself. He slipped a bit of Polyjuice Potion into his pocket, just in case, and called for Kreacher. “Dumbledore has the locket,” he said. “If I get thrown in Azkaban, you have to get it back and destroy it,” he ordered, trying not to let any of his fear show. Merlin, but why was he so afraid? He’d been willing to die for this. He had gone to his death for this. Stepping into the fireplace was nothing compared to facing his death in the cave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He entered Dumbledore’s office. The headmaster was alone, doing something at the back of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Ah, Regulus,” he called, not turning around. “How do you like your tea? Milk? Sugar?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Just plain is fine,” he responded, hesitantly making his way over to the desk and sitting down across from Dumbledore’s chair. Dumbledore came back with two cups of tea, placing one of them in front of Regulus and sitting down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I’m glad to see you’re looking well,” Dumbledore said with an air of fake cheeriness that immediately put Regulus on edge. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here,” he continued, stopping to take a sip of tea. Regulus stared at the cup in front of him. He found tea calming, generally, but he wasn’t foolish enough to take a cup offered by a potential enemy, even if he thought Albus Dumbledore would probably be above poisoning him. “I think it’s time you told me your whole story,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>So Regulus told him everything -- Kreacher, the cave, the potion, the Inferi. Almost everything, anyway. If he maybe lied about the details of what the potion showed him, that was no one’s business but his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>When he finished, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, studying him for a long while. Eventually, he produced a vial from the inside of his robes. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“This is Veritaserum,” he said. “I am going to give some to you.” Regulus watched as he put a few drops into Regulus’s cup of tea. Slowly, Regulus raised the cup to his lips and drank. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Is everything you told me the truth?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Regulus tried to say, but before he could he found himself saying, “No. I didn’t see the Dark Lord when I drank the potion, I saw my family.” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d admitted, and he heard Phineas Nigellus give a tiny cough, but his mouth kept going. “They were telling me all of the ways that I’d failed them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You are not working with any Death Eaters?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“And your brother?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus stiffened. “My brother is not a Death Eater, and he would never work with them,” he said coldly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore looked at him warily. “To your knowledge, perhaps, but all of the evidence points to the contrary. Regardless, that was not what I meant by my question. Are you working with your brother?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus blinked. “Of course not, he’s in Azkaban. And hates me. And thinks I’m dead,” he added. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Do you know of any more horcruxes?” he asked, and Regulus was stunned into silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I -- no. You mean to say that you think he made more than one horcrux?” The thought made him sick. Even the one had been bad enough, but more…</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore poured something else into his drink. “The antidote,” he explained, and Regulus drank gratefully. “Yes, I believe that Voldemort made multiple horcruxes. The reason I was so quick to trust in your story is because about a month ago, an object that I believe to be one of his horcruxes was destroyed. I don’t know how many he made,” he said, before Regulus could ask, “although it’s probably a significant number, perhaps three or seven.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Seven?” Regulus choked out. Seven. Seven murders, not that the Dark Lord hadn’t committed more than that already; seven tears in the soul. He’d always been weaker than Bella, but he wondered how she would react to this. Surely this was enough to horrify even her. (Doubtful, his mind supplied. If anything, it would just increase her admiration for the Dark Lord.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Well, that would be including the soul that remained in his body, so in actuality it would be two or six. Or perhaps the number is something completely different. I intend to do research into this in an attempt to track down and destroy any remaining horcruxes that may exist, and I believe you can help me. But enough about that, I’m getting off track.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You mean you called me here to talk about something else?” he asked, dread pooling in his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You achieved a NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures, yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Yes,” he responded, somewhat suspiciously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“As it so happens, our Professor Kettleburn is retiring this year, and I would like to offer you -- in disguise, of course -- the position of Care of Magical Creatures professor. Before you say anything,” he said loudly, seeing that Regulus was about to respond, “I would like you to know why I am offering you this job. This morning, I received word that Sirius Black has broken out of Azkaban and is heading for Hogwarts, likely to kill Harry Potter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus stared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You must be aware, of course, that were you to take this job, the safety of the students would be your first priority, even if it meant turning against your brother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“That won’t be an issue,” Regulus said, after a pause, “because Sirius would rather die than let any harm come to the son of James Potter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Be that as it may, I need your assurance that you will choose the students should it come to any conflict.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus forced himself to consider it. Sirius, a Death Eater… it didn’t seem possible. But if it was… if it could be… Well, if Sirius had left him behind and cut the whole family out of his life, only to turn around the moment Regulus realized he was wrong? Well. Regulus would be angry, then, more angry than when he’d left in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I can do that,” he said coldly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore smiled. “Wonderful! Silvanus was kind enough to leave his lesson plans, although you’re free to modify them as you wish. Please send me the required reading lists for your classes as soon as possible,” he said, handing Regulus some papers and beginning to usher him into the fireplace. “Oh, and Mr. Black? Do come up with a better fake name this time.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Regulus meets some people, adjusts to life at Hogwarts, and is generally kind of an asshole, feat. magical creatures.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    He named himself Antares Crow, in part because he couldn’t give up his name and in part to spite Dumbledore -- despite his understanding and helpfulness, there was still some part of him that hated and feared the man. He’d toyed around with other names, but it felt wrong not to be named after the stars. Being a Black was who he was; sometimes it felt like that was the only thing he knew about himself. He kept wondering what his mother would think of his actions. Would betraying the Dark Lord be enough to get him burned off the tree, were she still alive? What about working with Dumbledore? Or, Merlin forbid, defending his blood traitor of a brother? </p>
<p>    The summer was spent brewing Polyjuice Potion -- Dumbledore would be telling people that he had a blood malediction and needed to take medicine often -- making lesson plans, and reading, both about horcruxes and magical creatures. Care of Magical Creatures had been one of his favorite classes at Hogwarts, and the only one that he took despite his parents’ disapproval. He had, after a time, managed to convince them that the Dark Lord recruited many beasts to his cause, and having a working knowledge of them would be useful, but they still seemed to think that anything requiring more handwork than wandwork was a task better suited to other people -- potions excepted, of course. </p>
<p>    Soon making lesson plans turned into planning logistics, which ended up being copious communication with the groundskeeper and hours spent navigating the import and licensing laws surrounding magical creatures; while there were many creatures that could be found in the Forbidden Forest, he wasn’t just going to come across 50 clabberts while out for a stroll. Part of him felt impossibly angry that he was spending his time doing <em> this </em> instead of hunting for horcruxes, but another part of him found it… nice. He got to plan, and to know that his plans were going to come to fruition, rather than just blindly waiting for the next order or taking a shot in the dark. It was <em> nice </em>, being in control for once in his life. It was also tedious and frustrating, and he really wasn’t sure he liked teenagers enough for this, but all things considered he was almost enjoying himself. </p>
<p>    He moved out to Hogwarts two weeks before term to finalize plans with the groundskeeper and oversee the arrival and placement of many of the beasts. He hadn’t really… talked to Hagrid, back in his school days. On the contrary, he’d avoided interacting with the man -- if he was a man -- whenever possible. Even now he was vaguely uncomfortable with the idea, but it was unavoidable. To his relief, the meeting went well, although somewhat bizarrely; apparently a couple years ago he’d owned both a three-headed dog <em> and </em> a dragon, not to mention what seemed to be the implication that he knew an acromantula. He barely had to speak, only saying the essentials and the occasional polite phrase, but that didn’t seem to bother Hagrid, who seemed to have an endless amount to say. Their meeting had ended with Hagrid gifting him a book that immediately tried to bite his hands off, insisting that it was rather informative once you calmed it down. </p>
<p>    The rest of the staff was easier to deal with -- for the most part, he knew them, although they didn’t know that. About half of the staff hadn’t yet arrived. They usually showed up, so McGonagall said, either the day before or the day term started. As it was, Regulus liked the quiet, and he found himself dreading the first day of school, a stark contrast to the way it had been in his youth. </p>
<p>    The day arrived with much fanfare and last minute preparation. Regulus was treated to introduction after introduction, until saying Antares Crow finally felt normal. The teachers milled about in the Great Hall before the students arrived, getting caught up on each other’s summers. Hagrid, who had apparently decided that they were friends, was kindly explaining the Sorting Ceremony to Regulus when he peered over Regulus’s head and spotted someone.</p>
<p>    “I don’t think yeh’ve met our potions master, have yeh?” he asked, lumbering forward.  Regulus followed, relieved to have had his explanation stopped, and peered around Hagrid’s body. His heart stuttered unpleasantly as he saw who it was.</p>
<p>    So Dumbledore was in the habit of hiring Death Eaters, was he? </p>
<p>    “This is our potions master, Severus Snape. Snape, this is our new Care of Magical Creatures professor.”</p>
<p>    “Antares Crow,” he managed to say, extending his hand. Severus took it, his eyes never leaving Regulus’s.</p>
<p>    “Antares Crow?” he echoed. “What an unusual name.”</p>
<p>    Regulus pulled his hand back, his left forearm itching. Why the hell would Dumbledore have trusted Snape enough to give him a job here? “No more unusual than Severus Snape,” he responded. Evidently it was the wrong thing to say, because Severus scowled.</p>
<p>    The door opened and Dumbledore marched in, his face drawn.</p>
<p>    “The students will be arriving soon,” he stated. “The ministry has insisted that dementors guard the school from Sirius Black. They have just arrived. Be cautious, and remember that the safety of the students is the first priority. Minerva, a word,” he added, turning to leave. </p>
<p>    The moment he was gone, the stunned silence morphed into a menagerie of overlapping voices.</p>
<p>    “Dementors? On the school grounds --”</p>
<p>    “-- why would Sirius Black --”</p>
<p>    “-- it’s the <em> boy </em>, haven’t you heard? --”</p>
<p>    “-- lunacy, all of it --”<br/>    Dementors had not been part of the deal. Severus Snape had not been part of the deal. He could deal with lesson plans and Hagrid and teaching; he couldn’t deal with Death Eaters and Azkaban guards. And the whole reason he’d accepted this job was for Sirius. Sirius, who if he even set foot in Hogsmeade would have his soul sucked out. He had half a mind to quit, right there, or to find Dumbledore and… he wasn’t sure, really. Lashing out had never been his forte. So he did nothing, and eventually found himself shepherded to his place at the staff table, Hagrid having disappeared after Dumbledore’s brief speech. It was strange, being up here, instead of down at the Slytherin table with --</p>
<p>    With his friends, the dead or imprisoned.</p>
<p>    To his left sat Pomona, but the seat at his right was empty. As he watched, McGonagall approached her, frowning and clutching a piece of paper in her hand.</p>
<p>    “I have some business to attend to with a couple of third-years, would you mind taking over my place at the Sorting?” she asked, and Pomona rose and left. Regulus was alone.</p>
<p>    Merlin, why had he agreed to this?</p>
<p>    The doors opened again, and students began trickling in, but Regulus didn’t pay them much attention. At least, not until he heard someone sit down next to him.</p>
<p>    “Oh, it’s you,” he heard a familiar voice say in surprise. And <em> oh </em>, not him, too. Here he was thinking that hearing about the dementors would be the last bad news of the day. How silly of him. </p>
<p>    He turned to face Lupin. “Hello,” he greeted. “Sorry about the confusion the first time we met. I’m Antares Crow,” he said, offering a handshake. To his credit, Lupin took it without hesitation.</p>
<p>    “Remus Lupin. What are you teaching?”</p>
<p>    “Care of Magical Creatures. I suppose you’re Defense Against the Dark Arts?”</p>
<p>    He nodded. “Taking over for Kettleburn, are you? I’m surprised he didn’t retire sooner, honestly.”</p>
<p>    “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met him,” he lied. “I was homeschooled.”</p>
<p>    Lupin raised his eyebrows. “Most teachers here were students here, too. Although I suppose this means you won’t be as biased when it comes to the Houses as some people.”</p>
<p>    Regulus hummed noncommittally.</p>
<p>    Lupin looked at him shrewdly. “You’re rather young to be a professor, though, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>    “I’m talented,” he said flatly, turning back to look at the rest of the hall. He started with the Gryffindors, but found no one of consequence, to his surprise; the same went for the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs. In the Slytherins, he thought he could see faces -- that could be Nott’s son, perhaps if he squinted a little -- but for the most part, he couldn’t be sure. There was one exception, and that was the boy who was so obviously the son of Cissy and Lucius that Regulus had to remind himself not to stare. He couldn’t help it, though. Even through the Sorting, he kept watching the boy, trying to pick apart his mannerisms. It was hard to tell from such a distance which one of them he took after more, but he thought he saw flashes of Narcissa.</p>
<p>    He missed her. He knew he wasn’t supposed to miss her, but he did. He missed her, and he missed Evan, and he missed Fiona, and knowing that they were wrong and had done terrible things did nothing to change that. </p>
<p>    He only looked away as the door opened again, McGonagall ushering in two students. One of whom, it appeared, was James Potter. </p>
<p>    Of course he knew it wasn’t. Surely, this had to be the boy -- the Boy Who Lived, the slayer of the Dark Lord (and basilisks, apparently), the son of James Potter and Lily Evans. He looked so much like James that Regulus couldn’t stop the familiar anger-jealousy-hatred-disgust boiling in his chest, no matter how much he told himself that the boy was different. Merlin, but he even <em> walked </em> like James. </p>
<p>    “Yes, that’s him,” Lupin said from beside him, and he tore his eyes from the boy to look at Lupin. “Harry Potter. I met him on the train.”</p>
<p>    As if Lupin wouldn’t have known him anywhere, the way Regulus did. A moment later, his brain processed the rest of the sentence. “You took the train?” he asked in disbelief. </p>
<p>    Before he could answer, Dumbledore rose and began to speak. Regulus listened intently, but there was no new information. He and Lupin rose when their names were called, and he gave a nod to the hall. </p>
<p>    He excused himself as soon as the feast was over, hurrying back to his room. He wasn’t sure this day could’ve possibly gone any worse, save the Dark Lord himself appearing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    Regulus sighed as he lifted a skinny grey kneazle from his desk for what seemed like the millionth time that morning and deposited it onto the floor. It meowed irritably, but resumed its prowling around the room. A Hufflepuff third-year -- Abbott, maybe? -- glanced longingly at the kneazle before shuffling out after her classmates, leaving the classroom empty of students. Regulus took the opportunity to take another sip of Polyjuice Potion, though he still had some time before this dose ran out, and sat behind his desk.</p>
<p>    His next class began to filter in, choosing their places carefully. Most stared at him with open curiosity, but some ignored him, and a nervous-looking Gryffindor boy kept glancing at him and looking away. Cissa’s son came in when about half the class had arrived, and Regulus forced himself not to stare, but it was hard not to notice him. He commanded the attention of his fellow Slytherins, giving off an air of desperate self-importance. Already, Regulus could see he was more like his father than his mother -- an inelegant imitation of Lucius. When Ja -- Harry Potter walked in, Malfoy caught his eye and imitated a faint, much to the delight of his surrounding students. Regulus watched the display with disdain -- it was inelegant, immature, although Regulus was almost certainly missing some context. Potter and the students beside him scowled, but they walked on without comment, taking their place near the front of the classroom. </p>
<p>    Regulus waited a moment before standing and walking to the front of his desk, waving his wand to shut the door. The students quieted, turning to face him, and he surveyed the room. A couple of Gryffindor girls had already discovered the wandering kneazle -- rather, it had discovered them -- and were petting it where it walked across their desk, winding around their outstretched hands. Potter was staring at him cautiously, but expectantly; Cissy’s son had an air of boredom that Regulus was almost certain was performative.</p>
<p>    “Welcome to Care of Magical Creatures,” he began. “As you already know, I am Professor Crow. This class will take place either in here or outside, depending on the day; I will warn you prior to any classes we have outdoors. As third-years, most of your classes will be in here, but that will change toward the end of the year. We will begin the semester by learning the fundamentals of magical creatures and their care. After that, we will move on to magical birds, which is how we will finish out the semester. As this is an OWL level course, you -- yes, Mr Potter?” he asked, trying not to let his annoyance creep into his tone and making sure to keep his face neutral.</p>
<p>    “Like phoenixes?” he asked.</p>
<p>    “We will briefly be covering phoenixes, yes. However, as they are incredibly rare and virtually impossible to tame, they will not be discussed in depth until your fourth year, when we cover greater mythological creatures.”<br/>    “Professor Dumbledore has a phoenix, though,” he said, somewhat stubbornly. </p>
<p>    “Be that as it may,” said Regulus cooly, “Professor Dumbledore is a highly exceptional wizard. It is standard practice to assume that none of you will ever meet a phoenix, much less interact with one in any way. As I was saying, as this is an OWL level course, you will be given a larger amount of homework than has been the case for your past couple years.” He waited a moment, listening to the class quietly grumble before moving on. “Any questions?”</p>
<p>    Several hands flew up. He gestured at a Slytherin girl. “Yes, Miss..?”</p>
<p>    “Pansy Parkinson,” she said. One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight; ran in the same sort of circles that the Blacks did; no Death Eaters that he could think of, unless on her mother’s side. “What is that?” she asked, pointing behind him. The kneazle had evidently gotten bored with the Gryffindor girls, and had made its way over to the birdcage at the side of the room, where it was now failing to swipe at the somewhat affronted looking fwooper inside. Its bright pink feathers were now so on edge that the fwooper’s distinctive silhouette, which usually resembled an upside down teardrop, had almost completely vanished. Biting back another sigh, he scooped her up and put her on the ground again. He had been sure that she was a good idea; the most mild-mannered kneazle he’d ever met, sure to impress the -- admittedly easily impressed -- third-years. </p>
<p>    “That is a kneazle. In general, they’re usually quite intelligent and often aggressive, but this one just likes attention,” he explained. “Can anyone tell me what this is?” he asked, gesturing to the fwooper, who had relaxed a bit now that its assailant was gone. To his surprise, two people raised their hands. One of them was a girl with incredibly bushy brown hair seated directly beside Potter. She had been staring intently at Regulus the whole time he had talked. The other, a boy with dark skin and a quiet sort of confidence, had seemed bored the whole time, although unlike Malfoy, it seemed genuine. Regulus picked the boy. </p>
<p>    “Mr..?”</p>
<p>    “Zabini,” he said. Not Lenore Zabini’s son, surely? Although, he supposed that would explain the confidence and the high, defined cheekbones. Now that he’d heard the name, the resemblance became obvious. He’d known her back at Hogwarts, and for a bit afterwards. Bella had joked, once, that if he didn’t find a wife soon he’d be forced to end up her next victim. He wondered how many husbands she’d gone through since he’d been gone. “It’s a fwooper.”</p>
<p>    “Correct. Five points to Slytherin,” he said, snapping himself back to the present. “Can anyone name the spell that has been put on it?” This time, only the girl’s hand was up. </p>
<p>    “Yes, Miss..?”</p>
<p>    “Granger. Hermione Granger. It’s been put under a Silencing Charm. Although at first enjoyable, the fwooper’s song will eventually lead to insanity,” she explained, talking quickly.</p>
<p>“Very good, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Now, any more questions?”<br/><br/></p>
<p>And so it was that Regulus Arcturus Black settled into a routine at Hogwarts. He found that he enjoyed teaching, although he took issue with some of his students. Like his predecessor, he began exploring the Forbidden Forest in his free time -- after consulting Hagrid on the locations of various fauna, that is. He spent a lot of time with Hagrid, actually, as they had to coordinate on a lot of things regarding the creatures that made Hogwarts their home. He didn’t particularly like the groundskeeper’s company, but he loved the creatures he tended to. </p>
<p>He wasn’t sure what drew him to the thestrals. He hadn’t been able to see them when he’d gone to Hogwarts, though he’d known they were there; Kettleburn told his class about the creatures that pulled the carriages in their sixth year, which Regulus had kept in his own curriculum. He could see why people thought them horrifying, but he found the way their features blended seamlessly from bat-like to equine to reptilian stunning. And they were so gentle. So even though every time he looked at them he was reminded of the price he’d paid to see them, he came back, and their care quickly became his favorite part of the job.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Regulus walked into the staff room. As it turned out, teachers gossiped. Even McGonagall, who he’d assumed would be above such things, would drop in a piece or two of information. The only ones who didn’t were Severus, Lupin, and himself, and it seemed that the latter two didn’t participate only because of how new they were. The teachers were more than happy to share with them, though -- him more so than Lupin, which confused him for a number of reasons. He’d been polite, because he’d had the importance of politeness hammered into him from the moment he could speak, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to be friendly to any of them. They were friendly with him nonetheless, with the exception of Severus -- Severus, whom he avoided like the plague and who, to his annoyance, had seemed to make it his mission to be lurking around every corner Regulus went. He rarely spoke to Regulus -- and when he did it was scathing and bitter -- but he was always <em> there </em>, glaring.</p>
<p>The friendship of the other teachers was bizarre, but it got Regulus answers and shielded him from Snape’s incessant glowering, so over the last couple months he’d spent a good portion of his time in the staff room, listening to conversations but contributing only minimally. </p>
<p>Except today it was deserted -- or nearly deserted, as Lupin sat in an armchair near the fire. Regulus froze, briefly debating turning around and leaving, but Lupin looked up and offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Regulus had the distinct impression that he was scrutinizing him, which was one of the (many, many) reasons he usually tried to avoid the man. </p>
<p>“I suppose you’re the reason half of my fifth-years have clabberts?” Lupin asked, and Regulus had no choice but to make his way over and talk to him.</p>
<p>“They’re learning how to get creatures to bond with them,” he explained. “The clabberts are going to be their projects for the year.”</p>
<p>“Sounds fun. No doubt the twins are going to use it to raise hell somehow, though. When I thought about taking this job, I didn’t anticipate having to deal with them,” Lupin joked.</p>
<p>Regulus reminded himself that this was casual conversation; it didn’t stop him from feeling as though he were tiptoeing around shards of broken glass, where one wrong move could end very badly. “The twins would raise hell anyway,” he commented. He rather liked the twins, actually, although he found them annoying sometimes. They didn’t seem to make as much trouble in his class as the other teachers talked about, which he was grateful for. He’d always prided himself on being observant, and he’d decided on the first day that telling them apart was going to be his new challenge, so they got a pass for their behavior through no work of their own. </p>
<p>Lupin hummed. “That’s true enough. Why clabberts?”</p>
<p>“The pustule on their head lights up when they sense danger. Wizards used to use them to detect the presence of Muggles -- American wizards, they’re from America. If you can get it to bond completely to you, it should change its habits so that it lights up when your enemies or threats approach, and doesn’t light up for something objectively dangerous that you’re personally okay with, like a large dog.”</p>
<p>“I never took Care of Magical Creatures,” Lupin said wistfully. “I wanted to, but my friends convinced me to take most of my electives with them instead.”</p>
<p>Regulus stared at the fire as he tried to think of a way to respond that didn’t involve insulting Lupin’s friends.</p>
<p>Eventually Lupin spoke again. “Are you one of the teachers who has Gryffindor and Slytherin third-years together?”</p>
<p>“I do. They’re… an interesting group. Always at each other's throats,” he said carefully, because if he started getting into <em> why </em> he hated that class, things were going to go very badly.</p>
<p>“That’s certainly one way to put it. Severus and I have them, too, though I’ve heard he’s extremely biased toward his house. I try to be neutral, but I was a Gryffindor. I suppose you don’t have to worry about that, being homeschooled.”</p>
<p>As if house loyalties were the reason Lupin and Severus were biased.</p>
<p>“I should really go,” he said abruptly. “Papers to grade, and such.”</p>
<p>“Right. Good luck,” Lupin replied, his eyes never leaving Regulus as he turned and fled from the room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hallowe’en came with more excitement than Regulus remembered from his time at Hogwarts. Admittedly, there hadn’t been dementors guarding the grounds in his time, so perhaps his generation hadn’t felt the need to visit Hogsmeade nearly as severely. It was a relief to have the grounds more empty, even if he spent half the day helping Hagrid herd bats for the upcoming feast. It was a convenient excuse to get away from Lupin, anyway; since their conversation in the staff room, the man made every excuse to try and talk to him more. Between him and Severus, Regulus was beginning to feel like he was always being watched. </p>
<p>Indeed, when he sat down for the feast, Lupin took his place beside him. Mercifully, Pomona was already at Regulus’s left, and he struck up a conversation with her. At the beginning of the year, he’d vaguely planned to have his sixth-years have a lesson on mooncalves in the spring. He’d switched it to his third-years, reasoning that mooncalves weren’t dangerous and sixth-years had better things to learn about, but if he was being honest, it was entirely out of spite. Mooncalves were beautiful, and it was a breathtaking experience to see them dance, but their main appeal was their dung, which was a powerful fertilizer; both third-years and sixth-years had a unit on practical applications of animal products, so it fit right in. He broached the subject of a joint lesson for the third-years with Pomona, who happily agreed, and they discussed which month would work best for tending to her plants; mooncalves only danced on the full moon, so they only had limited dates for the lesson. Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus saw Lupin, who had been chatting occasionally with Hooch but generally staying silent, tense. And <em> oh </em>, that was something to consider, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>Because Regulus was nothing if not observant, and Sirius was nothing if not conspicuous; and so even though he’d hated Sirius (maybe) and even though he knew that he shouldn’t be paying attention to his blood traitor brother and his Muggle-loving friends, he’d watched, and he’d noted, and he’d said nothing. It was hard <em> not </em> to notice when every full moon their group became less boisterous and Lupin invariably vanished, returning the next day looking far worse than before. Regulus was sure he wasn’t the only one who had drawn conclusions. He didn’t tell anyone what he’d thought because all it would do would bring more shame on his family -- and what if he was wrong, anyway?</p>
<p>He hadn’t been wrong. He wasn’t sure whether to feel vindicated or bitter when McGonagall told him. He’d spent years formulating this theory, and they just <em> told </em> every member of the staff like it was nothing? </p>
<p>And maybe it was against his better judgement, but he turned to Lupin. “What do you think about safety?” </p>
<p>“Pardon?”</p>
<p>“Pomona and I are planning on taking the third-years out to see mooncalves at April’s full moon,” he explained. “In the Forbidden Forest. I’ve been exploring it a bit, but I’m sure I don’t know the scope of its dangers more than the people who attended school here. Pomona, Hagrid and I would be going with the students, but you’re the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, do you think we’ll be protection enough for all of them?”</p>
<p>Lupin smiled, but it was clearly strained. “I’m sure you and Hagrid know more about what’s in the forest than I do. It is forbidden, after all,” he said tightly. “How many students are you taking? You might want another staff member.”</p>
<p>“Would you like to join us?” Regulus asked, and then added, “Oh, sorry,” as insincerely as possible. Something bitter inside him purred as Lupin gave him a cold, forced smile and turned back to Hooch -- something that he was sure hated and resented James and Sirius far more than it ever could Lupin, but they weren’t here, were they? A momentary flash of guilt rose in him, but he squashed it immediately and resumed his conversation with Pomona, relieved that he had fended off Lupin’s attempts to talk with him for the night.</p>
<p>Or for the feast, actually, because when Regulus rose to leave, Lupin said, “Walk with me?” and there really wasn’t any way he could say no. They made their way out of the Great Hall, easily outpacing the students with their height, and when they’d reached an empty corridor they slowed and Lupin spoke again. </p>
<p>“I had a chat with Harry today,” he commented, his voice measured. “He’s a brilliant boy, really. Been through too much.” Regulus stayed silent, unsure of what he was supposed to say. “But brilliant. He reminds me so much of his parents. James was one of my best friends,” he explained unncessarily, “and Lily was really one of the best witches I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” He looked at Regulus for a long time in silence, but Regulus couldn’t speak. Lily he had respected as much as he could respect a Muggleborn, back then, but he couldn’t be trusted to speak about James. When Lupin spoke again, it was quiet but perfectly precise. “Harry has endured more tragedy in his short life than I would wish on anyone, and I will do anything within my power to make sure that he faces no more.”</p>
<p>“He’s lucky to have someone like you, then. Teachers should prioritize their students’ safety,” Regulus replied, his face a mask of cool indifference. Lupin really -- he had no reason to think that Regulus would hurt Harry, unless -- </p>
<p>Unless he thought… </p>
<p>Maybe Regulus should’ve taken Dumbledore’s advice and chosen a less obvious name.</p>
<p>“I do prioritize his safety, over any bonds or ties I might have had,” he responded coldly. “And you --”</p>
<p>“Remus, Antares, come with me, please!” McGonagall called, walking briskly past them with Severus at her heels. Her face was drawn in worry.</p>
<p>“What happened?” Lupin asked, but before she could answer the group was pushing their way through a herd of Gryffindors. Above them stood Dumbledore, standing before the portrait of the Fat Lady -- or the former portrait of the Fat Lady, because she was gone and the painting itself was viciously torn.</p>
<p>“We need to find her,” said Dumbledore. “Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady.”</p>
<p>“You’ll be lucky!” he heard Peeves say.</p>
<p>“What do you mean, Peeves?”</p>
<p>“Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn’t want to be seen. She’s a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful. Poor thing.”</p>
<p>“Did she say who did it?” asked Dumbledore quietly.</p>
<p>“Oh yes, Professorhead. He got very angry when she wouldn’t let him in, you see. Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.”</p>
<p>The crowd erupted in chatter, but Regulus could hardly hear it. Sirius, in the castle? Past the dementors? </p>
<p>“Mr. Weasley, take the Gryffindors to the Great Hall. Minerva, Severus, alert the other heads of houses to do the same and get the rest of the faculty; we will be conducting a thorough search of the castle. Remus, begin searching Gryffindor Tower and the surrounding area. Antares, get Hagrid and start searching the grounds. He cannot have gone far.”</p>
<p>“Professor Dumbledore,” Regulus began, but stopped himself, not sure of what he wanted to say. Sirius was <em> here</em>. He almost felt faint. </p>
<p>“The safety of the students is the first priority,” Dumbledore responded calmly, in such a way that it could be a reminder for everyone. Regulus knew what he meant, though: remember your promise. Don’t choose Sirius. </p>
<p>The students and teachers shifted around him, snapping easily into their roles, and the corridor was nearly deserted by the time Regulus remembered himself enough to do the same, and went to find his brother.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>It was easy enough to explain the situation to Hagrid, and easier still to convince him they should split up; they’d cover more ground that way. But the search seemed useless in the cold, dark night; and indeed it yielded nothing, and he returned to the castle with his mind buzzing with questions.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The grounds have been searched, sir,” he informed Dumbledore, who he encountered leaving the castle. “No sign of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Unsurprising,” Dumbledore responded. “I was on my way to inform the dementors that we had finished our search of the castle. I’m sure they’ll be glad to know that the grounds have been searched as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“How did he get in?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore looked at him intensely from behind his half-moon spectacles. “I do not know. There is no doubt in my mind, however, that no one in Hogwarts aided him in getting into the castle. If you’ll excuse me,” he said, and walked away.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus’s first feelings were relief, because Dumbledore didn’t blame him, and annoyance, because he deserved a better explanation than that. About everything, actually; Dumbledore hadn’t talked to him about Sirius or Severus or the horcruxes at all since he’d started working at Hogwarts. But by the time he’d reached the staff room, those emotions had slipped away in the face of the confusion and anger that were filling him, and above all the fear. For himself, even for Harry, but most of all for Sirius. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He’d wanted to go back to his room, to think or maybe just to sleep, but not going to the rest of the teachers might seem suspicious. And regardless, he needed to know how they thought Sirius got in, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius got in</span>
  </em>
  <span>, past dementors and Dumbledore and everyone else, and made it all the way up to Gryffindor tower. Why had he gone there, anyway? Harry -- if he was after Harry, which he couldn’t be, because Harry was James reborn again and he would never hurt James -- had been in the Great Hall, as had the rest of the students. Why the tower? Why Hallowe’en? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The staff room was louder than he’d ever seen it, and more full; the only staff he could see that were notably absent besides Dumbledore and Hagrid were McGonagall, Flitwick, and Severus. When he stepped in, the chatter ceased for a moment and he felt the whole room look his way.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He’s not anywhere on the grounds,” he said, and when they turned away and started speaking again he felt himself breathe more easily. After a moment, he found himself pulled as if by gravity into a circle of teachers, who wordlessly shifted to let him in. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> have been waiting there so that he could get to the boy with no teachers around,” Pomona said confidently. “If he’d come to the Great Hall, he would’ve had to face Dumbledore, and even his master’s afraid of him. An ambush, I’m telling you.” Regulus stiffened at the casual reference to the Dark Lord being called Sirius’s master. Merlin. He could hardly figure out what to think of this situation on his own, much less with everyone saying things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which were so obviously untrue he had no idea how the whole Wizarding World had been convinced of it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>(A small, rational part of his brain urged him to consider it, but he silenced it.)</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It doesn’t matter why he was going to the tower, we all know he’s after the boy,” Aurora said dismissively. “The question is </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> he got in.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>No one had a response to that. After a moment, Lupin looked at Regulus.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Antares, can I speak with you a moment?” he murmured quietly, and Regulus stepped away from the group with him. “I just wanted to say --” he began, but the door swung open loudly as Severus entered, sending the room into silence.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Any news?” asked Pomona.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“None,” he drawled back, and the conversations resumed. He strode purposefully toward Regulus, glowering. “And where were </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> tonight?” he asked sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“At the feast, of course,” Regulus replied, trying to sound as confused as possible. Merlin’s beard, he could not handle Severus coming after him tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> the feast? I seem to recall you left rather… quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He was with me the whole time, Severus,” Lupin said before Regulus could speak. Rather than deter him, Lupin’s comment made Severus’s face light up with triumph. His eyes darted between the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I would be careful if I were you,” he said, sneering, and turned to leave, his cape billowing behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin watched him go in exasperation. “I might have just made that worse for you, sorry. When we were at school -- Severus isn’t very fond of me. Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I thought --” he cut himself off.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You thought?” Regulus prompted, even though he was sure he knew the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I thought that you might be… someone else,” he replied, attempting a small smile. He looked utterly worn out, and looking at him Regulus felt the weight of his own exhaustion crashing down on him. The people around them were still talking animatedly, but he and Lupin were silent. It was nearly companionable, the way they stood there, each stewing in emotions they were sure the other had no idea the depth of, fatigue settling through their bodies. He was sure that for Lupin it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> companionable, but whatever memories were currently stirring in his head, they didn’t involve Antares Crow.  </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus wanted to leave. He wanted to leave this room full of people, and Hogwarts, full of questions he wasn’t sure would ever be answered; he wanted to leave the body that wasn’t his, and the time that he didn’t belong in; and he wanted... </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He had no idea what he wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Would I be leaving too ‘quickly’ if I left now?” he muttered to Lupin.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin laughed. “Severus won’t like you no matter what you do, honestly,” he replied, and Regulus slipped away to bed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But no matter how heavy his eyes felt, his mind wouldn’t slow down enough for him to sleep. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, he grudgingly pulled himself out of bed and made his way to his desk. The problem -- a most minor problem, all things considered -- was that he didn’t know where to start, so on a clean sheet of parchment, he organized his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>How did Sirius get in? Given the dementors, the only plausible way Regulus could think of was secret passages. The Chamber of Secrets had only been discovered last year, for Merlin’s sake -- there could be any number of secret ways into the school. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Why Hallowe’en? It was Sirius’s favorite holiday, Regulus remembered. Nostalgia, perhaps? It was also a night when the students and teachers were guaranteed to be in the Great Hall -- if he’d wanted to sneak around, maybe, it would be an ideal time to do so. Which led to question three, why Gryffindor Tower? To steal something, maybe, but what in the world could he want from there? To get Harry alone, if he wanted Harry, but he couldn’t -- he couldn't.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It had to be an object, then. Something of James’s, that Harry had? What could be so valuable that he would risk the dementors for it? Not that the dementors had managed to keep him in, the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>What if he really was a Death Eater? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he scrawled on the paper in front of him, then crossed it out. He looked at his thoughts, laid out neatly in headings and bullet points, and lit the paper on fire, throwing it in the hearth. It had helped, a bit, but another question snuck up behind him, bouncing around in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>What if Azkaban turned him mad? He was so sure of who Sirius was, but maybe this wasn’t Sirius anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He wasn’t going to be able to cope with this in a night. He took out his Sleeping Draught -- nearly out -- and downed it, falling moments later into a blissful, dreamless sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The next day, Regulus watched carefully as his second class of third-years trickled in. The first class had been unbearable; Sirius was all anyone, student or teacher, would talk about, and if he had to hear any more inane theories about how Sirius got in -- turning into a flowering shrub, </span>
  <em>
    <span>honestly</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- he was going to go insane. The same went for if he was asked one more time what Sirius wanted, and if they were going to be okay, and really just anything regarding the Sirius Black situation. Goldstein had made the mistake of mentioning his family, citing Bellatrix’s imprisonment, and he’d taken ten points from Ravenclaw and shut down any further talk of Sirius. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He had no idea how he was going to get through the next class without snapping, though. Already, he could hear them talking loudly about Sirius, and neither Potter nor Cissy’s son (and he wondered what she thought about this, really -- did she know that Sirius had been framed? Did she welcome it, or dread it?) had even arrived yet. He’d been informed that morning that teachers were to keep an extra close eye on Potter, without letting him know. He wondered how long that would last. Potter was arrogant, yes, and cared little for his studies, in every way his father’s son, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d notice their attention soon enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He walked in looking no more upset than he usually did, in contrast to his friends, whose faces were drawn with worry. Draco, likewise, entered the room seeming almost overly calm. For once, Regulus wasn’t sure if it was an act; if his parents hadn’t told him the truth about Sirius, he’d believe he was perfectly safe. Which was fine, because he was. Oh, but that was a thought -- what if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>here for revenge, just on a Death Eater’s child? He dismissed the idea almost immediately as he remembered where Sirius had gone. Gryffindor Tower -- he had to be here for something, and at this point Regulus was almost sure it was one of James’s possessions. But what could be so precious?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Lost in thought, it took him a moment to realize that all of the students had entered and settled down. He stood, but before he could start speaking, several hands shot into the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “If anyone mentions Sirius Black, unless to tell me of his miraculous capture, points will be deducted from their house.” The hands went down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    They were starting on birds today; owls were first, so after a brief introduction, he brought the class up to the Owlry, where he led them through a more hands-on demonstration of owl care and anatomy. For a short time he was busy enough that his mind was quiet, but soon the students were left to work on their own as he strolled between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    From across the room, he saw Draco lean over and say something to Potter, who looked… confused, maybe, angry, but instead of responding, he just looked away, glaring, and resumed talking to his friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus wandered over as non-suspiciously as he could, but by the time he’d arrived they were talking about the upcoming Quidditch match. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Concentrate on your owls,” he snapped, frustrated. He pushed the scene from his mind, trying not to be uncomfortable with how un-James like it was. James would always be the provoker, not the provoked, and he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> take the bait. Moments like these -- ignoring Draco, paying rapt attention in class, looking so deeply weary that even Regulus felt pity -- were rare, but they put Regulus on edge. They shattered the illusion of James, the way that if he ignored the eyes and the scar it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as cocky and hateable as Regulus remembered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He docked Parkinson three points for talking too loud and dismissed the class early. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Regulus hated the rain. He hated the sun, too, because he burned faster than a bonfire, but he hated the rain more. Snowing lightly or overcast were the only weather he enjoyed. Quidditch, however, was worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He’d gotten used to the castle, but he hadn’t been down to the Quidditch pitch yet. Here, it was harder to not remember. It had always been so good, the place where he went to escape from his troubles for a while, the place where nothing could touch him, except when they were playing Gryffindor. The year after Sirius had run away, when Regulus was still snappy and irritated (and hurt, but he wouldn’t admit it) Fiona Wilkes, one of his two best friends, had hit a bludger at Potter hard enough to knock him off of his broom, and after the game was over and Regulus had caught the snitch she’d hugged him until it was hard to breathe and they’d laughed and laughed. Sirius and James had glared at them for weeks afterward, but for the first time in ages it hadn’t bothered him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    If he couldn’t be flying (flying with his teammates, with his friends; he’d lost touch with them after school, except for Fiona who was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead dead dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>) at least he could live vicariously through this new generation. The fact that the Seekers for this game were Draco and Potter was… less than ideal, and the fact that Draco had apparently bought his way onto the team was even less so. Regardless, he was unequivocally rooting for Slytherin, and he needed a win right now, so despite the horrendous weather he made his way out to the Quidditch field and took his place in the teachers’ box, which was mercifully sheltered. After a moment, Lupin arrived, giving him a small, weary smile and sitting beside him. He’d been conspicuously absent yesterday, and though Regulus had read about the invention of Wolfsbane Potion in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Important Modern Magical Discoveries</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’d still found himself triple checking the lock on his door that night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Who are you rooting for?” Lupin asked, raising his voice to be heard over the storm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “No one,” he lied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “No one,” he called, feeling irrationally angry at having to shout in casual conversation. Mercifully, Lupin just nodded and turned to the field. Regulus did the same; the field and its players were lost in darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The game ended up being dreadfully boring even on the rare occasions when Regulus could see. Most of the players were focused more on staying on their broom than scoring goals, and Draco and Potter were circling above, searching for the Snitch in vain. Eventually, they called a time-out, which did nothing to soothe Regulus’s irritable mood. He scanned the seats, cataloguing which students looked the most miserable. In the darkness, it was nearly impossible to tell who was who, but he still managed to find points of interest. It was interesting to see how groups would form, interlocking their umbrellas together in a sort of makeshift puzzle until there was a canopy above them. Some of his fifth years had brought their clabberts, and he could see a few of their pustules glowing through the storm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    There was something else, too. He frowned, trying to figure out what it was, but all he could make out was an indistinct blob. He heard the whistle blow again, signalling the end of timeout, and turned his attention back to the game. Still, his eyes kept drifting back to the mass alone at the top of the seats. He’d think it was Hargid, had he not seen the man already. It was a little small to be him, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Lightning flashed, and --</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    and --</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    it was a Grim. So he was going to die; no one ever saw a Grim and lived. He’d survived the cave, and for what? To die fourteen years later, only six months of it spent awake? He saw the shape moving, once again in darkness, and then it was gone. At least he’d gotten to tell Dumbledore about the horcrux. He wouldn’t have died in vain. And maybe, after he was dead, Dumbledore would tell Sirius what he’d done, and then… he wasn’t sure how he wanted Sirius to react, actually. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Sirius at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Two sudden, horrible thoughts struck him at once. What if the Grim was for Sirius? Or what if it wasn’t, and Sirius was the one to kill him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    His insides felt tight and clammy and cold, and suddenly it was like he was back in the cave, and they were talking, he could hear them, and this was it, wasn’t it? He was hearing the voices again. He could almost feel the hands, and Merlin, the water was so, so cold. How did he get here?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Distantly, he heard a hundred voices yelling, and he slowly came back to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The rain, the thunder, the Quidditch match. The Grim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The teachers around him were all standing, staring down at the field. The crowds were shouting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What..?” he croaked. No one seemed to hear him except Lupin, who turned around. Frowning slightly, he fished something out of his pocket and handed it to Regulus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Here,” he said, and left the box. Several other teachers followed him. Regulus looked at the object in his hands. It was a chocolate bar. When he looked up, the box was nearly empty, and Severus was staring at him, lip curling. Shoving the chocolate bar inside his robes, he hurried out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Lupin found him later that evening. It was the first time someone had come to his room, and it was uncomfortable; he had polyjuice brewing in the corner, although Lupin probably couldn’t recognize it, and he had been in the process of writing… well, something. He hadn’t actually gotten that far. There was a chance that the Grim had been for Potter, and that the fall was meant to kill him, or the Grim could have been to warn Regulus of Sirius’s death, but he was fairly certain that omens of death mostly foretold the death of the one who witnessed them. His death, in other words. He hadn’t really prepared last time, besides the note to the Dark Lord. Now, he felt like he should say something. To Sirius, or to Dumbledore. His fellow teachers? No, none of them cared enough about him for that -- not that he was sure that Sirius or Dumbledore did either. But try as he might, he just didn’t know what to </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span>; his parchment had remained frustratingly blank from the moment he sat down to the moment Lupin arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Sorry, is this a bad time?” he asked. He looked somewhere between exhausted and pitying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus paused, considering. On the one hand, he didn’t really want to talk to Lupin. On the other hand, his other option was writing this letter. Lupin would find him some other time anyway, he reasoned. It was probably best to get it over with now. “No, go ahead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You had a pretty strong reaction to those dementors,” he said cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus stiffened. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” he said coldly. Lupin looked briefly taken aback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Right, I’m sorry. I just wanted to offer… I don’t know. An ear, if you ever wanted to talk.” He paused, the silence stretching awkwardly. “Did the chocolate help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “A bit,” he admitted. “Thank you.” Figuring out that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> dementors had helped more, in all honesty. At least there was a reason for what had happened; at least he hadn’t really been back in the cave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “All right then,” Lupin said, when it was clear that Regulus wasn’t going to say anything else. “Night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Good night,” he replied, and turned back to the paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    Siri --</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wrote. Frowning, he tacked on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the end of his brother’s name, barely managing to fit it in before the dash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He stared at the paper. His left hand irritably tapped the arm of his chair. Tossing the paper into the fireplace, he started again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Sirius,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    I hope you are well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    He crumpled it up almost immediately and it joined the first in the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Sirius,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    How</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wrote, and stopped. There were too many things to say -- too many things he should say and shouldn’t say and wanted to say. And Sirius still wasn’t here, and he would still be dead by the time his brother ever got his note --</span>
  <em>
    <span> if</span>
  </em>
  <span> his brother ever got his note -- so what did it matter, anyway? The third paper went in the fire. Regulus wondered idly if he could somehow convince Severus to make him more Sleeping Draught; this would be his last dose. Probably not, he supposed. Maybe he could buy some more next Hogsmeade weekend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    The next day was a Sunday, which was nice because it meant that for the most part he could avoid people. He spent most of the day in his office, grading, and only slipped out to get food from the kitchens, but that too brought back too many good memories, so he didn’t linger. He made a mental note to ask Kreacher if he’d rather be at Hogwarts than at home when he went home for the holidays and headed back to his office. Before he could reach it, however, Severus swooped into the hallway, pausing in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Crow,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Severus,” Regulus replied. When it became clear that Severus wasn’t going to move, he added, “Can I help you with something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Severus stepped forward, crowding into his space, and Regulus had to stop himself from physically flinching backwards. “You may have Dumbledore fooled, but I assure you I am not. And believe me, if you try anything, I will take pleasure in handing you over to the dementors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What are you talking about?” Regulus asked, but it sounded fake even to his own ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You know very well what I’m talking about.” He paused for a moment, sneering. “You’d think escaping Azkaban would make you less afraid of them, but I see you’re just as pathetic as you’ve always been.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus swallowed back the fury rising in his throat and put on his best expression of confusion, although he wasn’t sure how convincing it was; he was far better at masking emotions than imitating them. “You think I’m..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Don’t play dumb, Black, you’re enough of an idiot already,” drawled Severus, and made a move as if to leave. Regulus tried desperately to think of what a regular, uninvolved person would do in this situation, but hearing his name was throwing him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Severus, what -- what are you talking about?” Merlin, but he was a bad actor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Severus curled his lip. “Your arrogance never fails to astound me. Did you really think you could be so obvious --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He cut himself off and stepped away as the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway and McGonagall rounded the corner. She looked briefly surprised, and Regulus wondered what exactly they looked like; he really wasn’t sure what expression was on his own face, but Severus’s was a mask of pure hatred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Severus, I was hoping for a word?” she asked, and he stepped away from Regulus, following her with a swish of his cloak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    As he disappeared around the corner, Regulus retreated to his office. He still had half an hour before his Polyjuice faded, but he took another sip anyway. It had been bad enough when Severus had just been silently suspecting him, but open confrontation? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He’d never really liked Severus Snape. For all his supposed brilliance and passion for the Dark Arts, he had still just been some half-blood nobody whose best friend was both a Gryffindor and a Muggleborn. The only thing Regulus had vaguely liked about him was his dislike of Potter and his crew, but even that he’d seen as borderline pathetic. (Besides, as much as he’d hated Sirius, other people hating Sirius was… different.) He’d known about Snape, but they’d barely been acquaintances until his fifth year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    For his first few years at Hogwarts, Regulus had spent more time with the people in his year  -- Evan, who was Sirius’s age, excepted -- but as time went on that changed, and propelled by a passion for the Dark Lord, he and Fiona shifted into a group made primarily of Slytherins a year above them. Their age lent them less importance, but Regulus was the newly-crowned heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black; while people like Severus fostered his friendships there for years, crawling his way out of the shackles of his poverty and blood status, Regulus merely floated in. He hadn’t cared what Severus thought of him at the time, but he was pretty sure that he’d hated him -- although out of jealousy or a hatred for his brother, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    In any case, Severus certainly hated him now, even if for different reasons than before, and there was no way that it was going to end well. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Regulus makes a friend.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>A month and a half passed, and he didn’t die. The vague ambiguity of fall turned firmly into winter as December approached, and the first snowfall happened the day before Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff’s match. The match itself was far more pleasant than the last one; no rain, no dementors, no uncomfortable feelings about the Seekers -- the Hufflepuff Seeker was one of the students he liked best, which made it terribly disappointing when they lost -- and most importantly, no Grim. Things were almost suspiciously okay. Severus was still mildly stalking him, but there were no other confrontations, and Lupin, while still talking to him, hadn’t brought up the dementors again. Most of his classes were doing less hands-on units to avoid the winter cold, which meant a lot of grading essays for Regulus, but it kept his mind off of other things. The students, excited for Hogsmeade and the holidays, were good-natured and less difficult than usual. The only thing that hadn’t calmed down was the way Draco and Potter were still at each other’s throats, but if all he had to worry about was one class, that was fine. He cared for the thestrals and the other creatures. He started having the very occasional bit of tea at Hagrid’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He was excited for the holidays, too. He’d been continually brewing Polyjuice Potion, and he’d stocked up over the summer, but it would still be nice to have a bit of time to replenish his reserves and get to exist in his real body. Not to mention the fact that Kreacher probably missed him terribly, and he was missing the house-elf as well. It would be refreshing to be with someone who knew who he was, and to get away from everything for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore stopped him in the hallway on his way out to Hogsmeade. They hadn’t spoken since Sirius had broken in; in fact, Dumbledore had been spending an inordinate amount of time away from the school. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ah, Mr. Crow! I was just going to inquire as to whether you’re staying for the holidays?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I wasn’t planning to,” he answered honestly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I would urge you to reconsider. I believe there are some things we need to discuss,” the headmaster said, eyes twinkling.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Sirius or horcruxes?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wondered. Not that it really mattered. It was practically an order. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Alright,” he said, and that was that; a few words from Dumbledore and there went his plans for a relaxing holiday.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Wonderful,” Dumbledore replied cheerily before leaving. Did he always have to be so happy? At least he was finally going to tell Regulus something. Four months at Hogwarts and he’d heard nothing, and now this vague statement and nothing else?</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He tromped out to Hogsmeade significantly more unhappily than before, the cold biting at his fingers and neck. All around him, the air was filled with the laughter of students, and he watched as packs of them darted about the village. If he looked carefully he could distinguish them, but for now they just looked like any other year at Hogwarts. He could see a crowd gathered around Honeydukes, where Evan, on a dare, had eaten so many cockroach clusters he’d thrown up on Avery. His eyes shifted to the Three Broomsticks, where --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Antares!” he heard someone call, interrupting his thoughts, and he turned to see Hagrid approaching him. At his side were McGonagall, Flitwick, and a short, squat man in what might have been one of the most ugly outfits Regulus had ever seen. The lime green bowler hat he wore was distracting enough that it took Regulus a moment to see his face. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We were jus’ goin’ ter the Three Broomsticks, would yeh like ter join us?” Behind him, Regulus could see McGonagall’s lips pinch into a faint frown, but she didn’t object. “Oh! I musta forgotten. Antares, this is Cornelius Fudge, Minister o’ Magic. This is Antares Crow, he’s our new Care o’ Magical Creatures professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus resisted the urge to reach for his Polyjuice Potion and instead reached out to take Fudge’s hand. Why on Earth was the Minister here? “It’s an honor to meet you, Minister,” he said politely. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Fudge shook his hand briefly and coughed. “You as well, Mr. Crow.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus turned back to Hagrid. “Unfortunately, I have a few errands to run in town,” he said, which was not exactly a lie. Hagrid frowned, but before he could object, McGonagall spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well, we’d best be off. No point in standing around in the cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Quite,” agreed the Minister, and Regulus felt relief course through him as they walked away. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He went to a couple of shops to buy Sleeping Draught and Polyjuice ingredients; he’d stocked up over the summer and ordered them by mail a few times, but he really didn’t want to know what would happen if Severus started going through his packages. Errands done, he found himself wandering to the Hog’s Head. He’d always looked down upon the pub when he was in school, but he had nowhere else to go. The only things the Three Broomsticks had that the Hog’s Head didn’t (except, perhaps, dignity) were memories and the Minister of Magic.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The inside of the pub was just as dirty as he’d always thought it was, and the patrons looked, in a word, unsavory. For a moment he considered walking out again, but what did it matter? He was a Death Eater and blood traitor in the body of a Muggle; he was sure that both sides of the war would regard him as the lowest of the low.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>A Black shouldn’t be seen in this place</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, in a voice that sounded disturbingly close to his mother’s. Well, it was a good thing that he wasn’t being seen as a Black, then. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus ordered a firewhisky from the bartender and retreated into a corner booth, perching on the edge of his seat so as to touch as little as possible. There was something familiar about the bartender, but he couldn’t place it. His eyes scanned the rest of the room, but half of the few patrons had their faces covered and the other half were completely unfamiliar to him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Maybe he should’ve just gone back to Hogwarts. He resolved to finish up his drink and leave as soon as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His eyes snapped to the door as it opened and Hagrid came bustling in.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Afternoon, Aberforth! One firewhisky,” he said cheerily to the bartender. His eye landed on Regulus in the corner and he waved, grinning. “Make it two,” he amended, slapping down some coins. Aberforth obliged, passing him two drinks of wildly different sizes. Hagrid lumbered over to Regulus’s corner, passing him the smaller glass. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh, you didn’t have to--”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Nonsense,” Hagrid said, waving off his objections. “Consider it yer welcome ter Hogwarts drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus accepted it without further protest. Staying in the Hog’s Head for another drink couldn’t be that bad. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What was it you were talking to the Minister about?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh, nothin’ much, nothin’ much. Jus’ some stuff abou’ --” he dropped his voice and leaned in, glancing around. “Sirius Black. Yeh know, I don’ even know why they’re botherin’ with the dementors. The Minister says he’s not even affected by ‘em.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus didn’t respond, shocked. How could he not be..? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I jus’ hope Harry’s safe over the holidays,” Hagrid continued. “Yeh know, wha’ with a bunch o’ the teachers gone. Are yeh stayin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes, I am.” Unfortunately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good. Yeh know, he’s a really good kid, Harry is. Reminds me so much o’ his parents. Some o’ the bes’ people I ever met.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regulus was suddenly reminded of his conversation with Lupin at Hallowe’en. Could Hagrid think that he was Sirius? It was possible, but the man wasn’t giving him any of the meaningful looks that Lupin or Severus had thrown his way. He just seemed to be honestly reminiscing about James and Lily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s he like in yer class?” Hagrid asked, at his silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s… I mean, he’s not the most studious, and he tends to get in… altercations… with Mr. Malfoy, but he's a fine student.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    To his surprise, Hagrid’s face immediately turned angry. Merlin, was he not even allowed to point out Potter’s obvious flaws?</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Malfoy,” Hagrid growled. “’im and his no-good father have bin attackin’ me since he came here. An’ he’s awful ter Harry an’ his friends,” he added. “Yeh know he called Hermione a -- well, I ain’t gonna repeat it, but it’s a nasty word fer Muggleborn. I’m sure yeh’re familiar with the word I’m talkin’ abou’.” Mudblood, Regulus assumed. Yes, he was familiar; often, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it, and he’d spent all year reminding himself that he didn’t believe those things anymore. “An’ his first year, he tried ter get me fired fer havin’ Norbert -- I’ve mentioned him to yeh, righ’? Last year, his father -- well, I don’t wanna talk abou’ it,” Hagrid finished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “He’s not my favorite student,” Regulus said, hoping that Hagrid wouldn’t push any more on the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Hagrid shook his head. “Always spouting all that pureblood bullcrap. I mean, look at Hermione! Smartest student in the school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “She’s very clever,” Regulus agreed, pushing away the emotions that surfaced in his chest at the mention of “pureblood bullcrap.” She was a bit annoying sometimes, but clever, and genuinely interested in learning. He had no idea why she wasn’t a Ravenclaw. “If she continues into her NEWTs, I’m sure she’ll have a fascinating independent study.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Hagrid hummed, and -- blessedly -- changed the topic to the creatures of the Forbidden Forest. From there, talking was easy; he didn’t have half of Hagrid’s passion, but he did enjoy the various creatures he tended to, and it was nice to talk about them without making it a lesson. Regulus finished his drink, but it was half an hour before he realized he was holding an empty glass, and another hour before he walked back to Hogwarts with Hagrid, parting at the doors to the school. He was so distracted going back to his room that he nearly crashed into several students on the way, and was relieved to finally reach it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Hagrid was, in a word, embarrassing. He was brash and overly passionate, he spoke strangely, there had been rumors for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> about whether or not he was fully human, he’d been expelled from Hogwarts, and he was just generally… uncivilized. Regulus was pretty sure that freely associating with him could ruin the reputation of even the highest of purebloods, and if his mother knew how he’d spent the afternoon, he was pretty sure she’d die a second time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    But Regulus had enjoyed himself, impossibly. That had to count for something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Regulus knocked softly on the door to the headmaster’s office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You may enter,” he heard Dumbledore say, and he stepped inside. The man was standing with his back to Regulus, gently stroking what was unmistakably a phoenix. As Regulus entered, he turned. “I suspect you are wondering why I called you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Regulus thought, annoyed. “I’m wondering why you didn’t call me here sooner,” he said instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I am afraid that in the search for any information on the number and nature of Voldemort’s horcruxes, I have been largely unsuccessful until very recently.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What have you found?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Nothing concrete, only speculation. I recently began to look into the history of the locket that you brought me, to see if it was, as I suspected, Salazar Slytherin’s. In doing so, I stumbled across something very interesting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He strode across the room to where a shallow stone basin sat. Regulus followed him, peering into the basin; silvery whisps floated within it. “After you,” he said, gesturing at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Ah, I had forgotten that you don’t know how to use a Pensive. Merely dip your face in,” he explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus stared at him incredulously. Was this some bizarre trap, or a way to humiliate him? Dumbledore, as always, looked completely calm, not reacting to Regulus’s obvious disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Ignoring all of his instincts, he dipped his face into the basin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Immediately, he found himself falling through darkness. He scrambled desperately for his wand, but before he could cast Lumos he found himself on solid ground again. He was in what seemed to be a sitting room; an enormous witch with eye-watering pink robes sat in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I am so sorry, ma’am, I don’t know --” he began, but she didn’t so much as look at him; instead, she just barked orders at a tiny house-elf at her feet. A moment later, Regulus saw Dumbledore step to his side. “What is going on?” he demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “We are inside a memory; the memory of Hokey, Hepzibah Smith’s house-elf. The contents of the memory are mostly unimportant for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Then why am I here?” Regulus asked, watching the way the woman jumped at the sound of the doorbell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You shall see,” Dumbledore said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus huffed and turned away from him, his eyes falling on the man who had just entered the room. Automatically, he took a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    It was the Dark Lord. Younger, handsomer, more alive, but unmistakably him. He kissed the old woman on the hand and offered her flowers. Regulus could hear his heart pounding in his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Why am I here?” he repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Dumbledore sighed. “Hepzibah was a collector of rare and magical items. Tom, at the time, worked for Borgin and Burkes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Tom?” Regulus asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Lord Voldemort’s name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus finally dragged his eyes away from the Dark Lord -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tom</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- to look at Dumbledore. He looked entirely serious. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tom</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Dumbledore smiled faintly. “Tom Riddle, yes. Ah, but this is what we’re here for,” he said, moving toward Hepzibah, who was opening a box. Inside was a golden two-handled cup. “Look closely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen finer craftsmanship; the handles were incredibly detailed, and the face of the cup was engraved with a badger. Hepzibah and Tom were talking about it; the cup had been Helga Hufflepuff’s. Did Dumbledore think this was a horcrux? The Dark Lord had no loyalty to Hufflepuff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The cup was put away, and the witch pulled out a familiar locket from the next box. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I think that’s enough,” said Dumbledore. Regulus nearly jumped as he grasped his arm, but a moment later they were back in the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Dumbledore didn’t speak, a fact for which Regulus was grateful; the experience had been unnerving in a number of ways, and he took a moment to collect himself before addressing the Headmaster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You think that the cup might be another horcrux,” he stated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Perhaps.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That doesn’t make sense. The Dark Lord has no connection to Hufflepuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “That is true,” Dumbledore agreed. “And yet, he killed her and took them both, not just the locket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Didn’t she say that the cup might have magical powers? Perhaps he just wanted a powerful artefact in his arsenal,” Regulus argued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You make a fair point, but if that were the case, would he not have used it? The reason I believe that the cup may be a horcrux is that Voldemort had stronger loyalty toward Hogwarts as a whole than perhaps anything else. It was his first true home. Even from his youth, he liked collecting… trinkets. Having something of the different founders may have appealed to him. Or perhaps not,” Dumbleore conceded. “But as of right now, it may be the best lead we have, and I intend to pursue it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus was silent. He had been a Death Eater, yes, but he would never have claimed to have really known the Dark Lord. Loyalty to Hogwarts? He’d never known. But Dumbledore was right; they had no other leads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “If he got them at the same time, he might have made them into horcruxes at the same time,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Indeed. If that were the case, he likely would’ve hidden them around the same time as well. I was hoping you’d have seen the cup, but even not having seen it, I believe you may be able to help us find out where it is hidden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I wasn’t a very… high-ranking Death Eater,” he admitted. “He wouldn’t have trusted me with that information.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Dumbledore examined him critically. “Perhaps not you, no, but your fellows. The horcrux that was destroyed was entrusted to Lucius Malfoy, although I highly doubt he was told what it was. That means that both of the horcruxes we have used Death Eaters in their hiding.” He sighed. “I understand what I’m going to ask for may be very difficult for you to give, but it may be crucial for defeating Voldemort. I want your memories from around the time that he asked you for Kreacher -- anything that may indicate where or with whom he hid the cup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “No,” said Regulus flatly, though panic was coursing through him. His memories? Merlin, he already had to live with the shame of having been a Death Eater -- letting Dumbledore witness it? That wasn’t going to happen. Even more disturbing was the thought of Dumbledore seeing him interact with his friends. It was -- they weren’t for him. They were good moments, precious things, and even though his friends may have been terrible people, they had been good to him. He could barely work out his own feelings without knowing that Dumbledore had been rifling through his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Dumbledore’s lips flattened. “Very well,” he said coldly. “You may leave now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    He was fidgety and anxious all through the next day. Severus, devoid of other things to occupy his time now that break was here, had taken to lurking around him even more than usual, and although Regulus thought he’d look forward to the loss of students, it left him with little other distractions. He was rapidly running out of papers to grade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    And he couldn’t stop thinking about Dumbledore’s request. It was as though it had opened a floodgate, and now he couldn’t stop remembering. It wasn’t right or good or fair of Dumbledore to ask this of him. He couldn’t bare his mind so intimately to anyone, much less Dumbledore. And yet -- hadn’t he been willing to die to defeat the Dark Lord? Shouldn’t he be willing to do whatever it took? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Dying had been different. All of that torture, yes, but then it was supposed to be over. Now he was just supposed to let Dumbledore traipse around his memories and then go back to normal, as though nothing had happened. He briefly considered asking for some of Dumbledore’s memories in exchange, but if anything that would make him feel worse. He hadn’t enjoyed seeing Hokey’s, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He should do this; the Dark Lord returning would be worse than handing over a few memories to the headmaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    There hadn’t even been any proof, though. They didn’t even know if the Dark Lord had more horcruxes, much less if the cup was one of them. Even if it was, would his memories give any information of use?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Back and forth Regulus weighed his options. The situation was impossible -- he couldn’t give the memories, but he couldn’t deny them to Dumbledore. He wished he could stop thinking, just for a little. It was driving him insane. Two days in, and he fled to the library, looking up how to extract memories, and on the third day, overwhelmed by the weight of the decision, he cracked. Fishing a vial out of his potion making kit, he put his wand to his head and pulled memory after memory out. He barged into the headmaster’s office without knocking, interrupting a conversation between him and McGonagall, and deposited the vial onto his desk without a word before turning and stalking away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Alone in his room, Regulus Arcturus Black tried not to think.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Regulus woke on Christmas Day with a heaviness in his heart. As a child, he’d loved Christmas, of course, but since Sirius left it had been miserable. Actually, it was around Sirius’s third year when Christmas had turned awful, what with the way his parents and his brother were constantly fighting. This year -- his first year without any of his family -- he’d wanted to try something; he’d looked for a gift for Kreacher, arguably the only person he had left, but couldn’t think of anything suitable. It’s not like Kreacher would want clothes, and what else was he supposed to get him? Instead of a gift, he’d settled for a thank you note and had asked Kreacher if he would be happier working at Hogwarts or staying at home. He’d probably get a response soon, so he rolled out of bed, despite the fact that all he wanted to do was curl up and go back to sleep until the next semester started. Shuffling around to his dresser, he yelped as he kicked something at the foot of his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    It was a fairly large package, messily wrapped in brown paper. A note attached read, “Merry Christmas! -- Hagrid,” and he tore into it to find what seemed to be homemade rock cakes and a self-cleaning birdcage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He sat down heavily on the side of his bed, clutching the cage tightly. Mortifyingly, he felt tears begin to form in his eyes, and what in Merlin’s name was happening? After everything he’d been through these past few months, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was what made him cry? Some cakes and a cage? He hadn’t cried in years, but now it was like a dam had been broken, and the more he tried to stifle his tears, the harder they flowed. He pressed his forehead into the metal bars of the cage, taking gasping, shuddering breaths. He hated himself for crying and he hated himself for hating himself, because shouldn’t a man be allowed to cry in the safety of his own room? He wasn’t even sure what he was crying about -- Hagrid’s kindness, Sirius’s safety, the death of his friends, the memories he’d given Dumbledore, the way he felt so utterly lost --</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Eventually it subsided, and he began to breathe normally again. He felt itchy and raw and humiliated, despite the fact that no one had witnessed his meltdown. His hands had indents from where they had gripped the cage, and he frowned at them, putting the cage aside and drinking his Polyjuice potion. The indents disappeared as his hands bubbled into a different form. He nibbled on one of the rock cakes, but it seemed to be more rock-like than cake-like, so he set it aside. He felt exhausted, but different -- lighter, maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    By the time he felt presentable and put-together enough to leave, it was nearly time for lunch, so he headed to the Great Hall. There was a single table in the center, rather than the usual House tables, and several people had already gathered there. Dumbledore caught his eye as he entered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Merry Christmas!” he said cheerily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Merry Christmas,” Regulus replied automatically, but looked away. He took a seat next to Pomona and greeted her; of the faculty members who were here, she was the one he got along with most. There were only three students, which was a surprise, none of whom he knew. Evidently Dumbledore’s Christmas spirit wasn’t infectious, because the students were silent and Severus looked as sour as ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The door opened, and Regulus looked up to see Hagrid and Flitwick enter. He smiled at Hagrid, who took a seat at his right. “Merry Christmas!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Merry Christmas, Hagrid. Thank you for the gifts,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to get you anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “’S no problem,” he said easily. He turned away to watch as Potter and his friends entered; they caught Hagrid’s eye and glared, sitting as far away from his as possible. Hagrid wilted. “They’re mad a’ me,” he explained glumly as the rest of the table opened Christmas crackers. “Earlier this week they came askin’ ’bout somethin’, an’ I refused ter tell ‘em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Unsure of what to do, Regulus patted him on the arm in what he hoped was a consoling gesture. He was saved by having to speak by the arrival of food. It was delicious, although not nearly as good as Kreacher would have made. Halfway through their meal, the doors opened once again to reveal a teacher whose name Regulus failed to remember. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!” he heard the headmaster say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Oh, yes. The Divination teacher, if Regulus recalled correctly. His schedule had been too busy for Divination, but he’d always taken it seriously -- at least, some parts of it. Now, however, he wasn’t so sure. He’d seen a Grim, the most sure predictor of death, and lived. He wondered what Sibyll would think of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Christmas dinner lasted another two hours, which Regulus spent chatting with Hagrid and occasionally Pomona. Hagrid kept shooting sad glances at Potter and his friends, which Hermione and Ron would occasionally return. Potter, however, would only glare. At one point, Regulus asked what they had come looking for information about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Sirius Black,” Hagrid had said in a low voice, but half of the people at the table had turned toward them -- Potter and Severus included -- so Regulus dropped the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    After dinner, he made his way to the Owlery; as it turned out, Kreacher would want to work here, in the kitchens. The next day, he made his way to Diagon Alley, where he bought a baking cookbook and the largest dragonhide gloves he could find, both of which he presented to Hagrid as a late Christmas gift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    When he returned to his room, there was a note on his desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    6 o’clock tomorrow night, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it read, and underneath, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lemon drops</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus stepped cautiously into the headmaster’s office, the room’s only sounds his footfalls and the gentle whirring of various devices. Dumbledore met his eyes and raised a hand in greeting, but said nothing, as if waiting for Regulus to speak. The part of him trained to be polite itched to break the silence in greeting, but he pushed it down. He’d done enough of what Dumbledore wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Eventually, realizing that he wasn’t going to talk, Dumbledore spoke. “If you are wondering if my judgement of you has changed based on what I have seen, I assure you it hasn’t. I have forgiven men with far less good in their hearts than you, and I have forgiven men for far worse crimes. Everyone deserves a second chance, if they seek it.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus felt himself relax a bit. That had been one of the things he’d been worried about; some of the memories he’d handed over had been… damning, to say the least. “Thank you,” he answered coldly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I truly am sorry that I needed these from you. I understand that one’s memories are a difficult thing to share, and I thank you for trusting me with them,” he continued, having the audacity to look genuinely sorry as he did so. Regulus didn’t buy it; Dumbledore was a man who got what he wanted, regardless of others. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What do you want?” he bit out. A tiny part of his mind reminded him that he would potentially have to work with Dumbledore a very long time, and should try to stay on his good side. The rest of him, still feeling irrationally angry and somewhat violated, ignored that.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore sighed, looking at him sadly from beneath his half-moon spectacles. “There is one memory in particular that I would like some clarification on,” he said, rising and walking over to the Pensive.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You want me to go in there with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I often find that reviewing my own memories from an outside perspective can be very illuminating,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Begrudgingly, Regulus dipped his face into the bowl. Once again, there was the terrifying feeling of falling through complete darkness, but then he was on his feet again.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He looked around, feeling relief course through him as he realized where he was -- Cissa and Lucius’s manor. He knew this memory. It was just after the Dark Lord had asked him for Kreacher, and it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad, all things considered. It wasn’t something he wanted Albus Dumbledore to see, but he could live with it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He walked over to where he was standing, chatting with Cissy and Fiona. The meeting of Death Eaters had ended, and now the Dark Lord had retreated into a back room with only his most trusted few. Regulus remembered being jealous the first time he’d seen this happen, and then, as he got deeper and deeper into the Death Eaters, grateful that he wasn’t among them. He watched himself and his companions carefully; Cissy seemed unbothered by her exclusion, but Fiona kept shooting short, longing glances toward the room where the Dark Lord’s inner circle resided. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“-- and Ophelia just got married,” Cissy was saying. “To Alexander Greengrass.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I know,” Other Regulus said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Everyone thought she was going to end up with you, but you never even asked her out, Reg! Soon enough there won’t be any girls left for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There’s a war going on, Cissa,” Other Regulus protested. “I have more important things to focus on.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They’re leaving the room,” Regulus heard Dumbledore say softly from beside him. He nearly jumped. He hadn’t realized that the headmaster had arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Cissa frowned. “Well, you have to get married sometime, you’re the last Black left. Besides, producing an heir takes very little effort on the man’s part,” she joked. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I know, Cissy. But the war comes first.” It sounded so fake when he said it; Regulus wondered if the others had ever really believed that excuse. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Family comes first,” Cissa corrected him, giving him a hug before heading over to her husband. Regulus’s heart hurt. Merlin, how he missed her. At the same time, he wondered how she could even say that. Family comes first, except when that family is Andromeda or Sirius. Regulus wasn’t the last Black left. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Fiona turned to Other Regulus, placing a hand on his arm. The war had changed her, made her rougher around the edges, sadder, but also more determined. Evan had taken to cruelty like a fish to water, but Fiona hadn’t. She hated hurting humans, even Muggles, but as Regulus became disillusioned with the war, her passion only grew. It was their duty, their holy quest; it was necessity. It hurt her to hurt others, but if she had to suffer for the cause, that was okay. Their friendship had changed, too, stretched out and warped once they left the comforts of childhood. But it had always been good, and it had always been there. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You don’t seem that interested in finding a wife,” Fiona said. “And not just because of the war, either,” she added quickly. “You never have been. So, if you -- if you really aren’t, and you just want to marry to get your family off your back and have a baby, well…”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Other Regulus looked at her, a hint of nervousness in his expression. Regulus wondered if it was truly visible, or if it was only because he knew how he’d felt.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I just mean, I’m not all that interested in having a husband, but I’m going to need one to gain any more respect. You can always marry me.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus felt his heart twisting inside him. She was dead, and gone, and he was never going to get the chance to see her again.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thank you,” said Other Regulus softly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And only now have Bellatrix and Voldemort left,” Dumbledore stated, nodding to the door. Regulus tore his eyes away from himself and Fiona to look. Right; he remembered that -- obviously -- but it hadn’t struck him as important. Bella was beaming. Dumbledore grabbed his arm just above the elbow and a moment later he found himself back in the office. “Did the two of them often stay after the others?” he asked. Regulus was grateful that he seemed to be ignoring the conversation that was the focus of the memory entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No,” Regulus admitted. “He almost never held one of them back. The people in that room were the inner circle of his inner circle. He trusted all of them completely.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You think he was giving her the goblet?” It was possible, Regulus admitted. There was no one more loyal than Bella. Her devotion was terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Perhaps, or asking her about potential hiding spots and giving it to her later. Do you think that seems likely?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It… yes, if he trusted any of his Death Eaters with part of his soul, it would be her. Do you think he told her what it was?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore considered it for a moment. “I’m not sure. It seems like an unnecessary risk. Regardless, I think it’s highly likely that he entrusted her with the goblet -- assuming, of course, that the goblet is a horcrux and we haven’t already found them all. Where do you think your cousin would hide it? Somewhere protected, somewhere meaningful to her?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus thought it over for a moment. “She’s not exactly sentimental, she’d be practical about it. I think she inherited Uncle Cygnus’s manor, that’s definitely a safe place to keep dark objects. I don’t know Rodolphus’s place as well, but it’s been passed down in the Lestrange family for generations, so it probably has plenty of  wards and defenses as well. And there’s always Gringotts,” he added as an afterthought. “But she hates goblins, so I’m not sure she’d go for that route.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore hummed. “Both of the properties they owned were searched after they were sent to Azkaban. I’ll have to get my hands on the records, but I doubt Hufflepuff’s cup was found. It would have been returned to the school.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They didn’t find everything,” Regulus said confidently. “I know Uncle Cygnus’s place, and the wards know me, and I still doubt that I would be able to find everything. The Ministry didn’t stand a chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“In that case, I will gather all of the information I can on the houses to prepare. We will have to go looking ourselves.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>That was, in Regulus’s opinion, a fantastically bad idea. Still, they didn’t appear to have any other options. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Have you figured out anything on what other horcruxes might be, or where they might be hidden?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore sighed. “I’m afraid not, but if you have any ideas, feel free to share them.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There was silence for a moment as Regulus attempted to think over all of the information he had been given. “You said he loved Hogwarts. Could he have hidden one here? Not out in the open,” he added quickly. “But in the Chamber of Secrets. No one was supposed to be able to get in, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore shook his head. “I think it would appeal to him, but having a horcrux that leads directly to another would be foolish.” He paused, looking at Regulus critically. “I may yet find another use for the Chamber of Secrets, however. I will search it tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll start preparing for the search for the locket. I presume you’ll be going with me, given your familiarity with the manor?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“...yes, I can join you. I don’t believe I’ll be much help with Rudolphus’s place, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes, I think it might be best not to risk your discovery with that,” Dumbledore agreed. “That’s all for tonight, I believe. Thank you,” he said, sincerely. Regulus nodded and turned to leave the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said hurriedly, spinning back around. “My house-elf -- I was wondering if he could come work here, in the kitchens. He’s lonely,” Regulus explained. From his portrait, Phineas Nigellus sniffed disdainfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He would be more than welcome,” Dumbledore assured him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until he was nearly back at his room that he realized he’d been so caught up in thinking about horcruxes that he’d forgotten his anger at Dumbledore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus made his way across the castle grounds, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon. It had been a good day; he’d finished his prep for next semester; he’d summoned Kreacher, who under strict orders to pretend that he didn’t know Regulus, had started his work in the kitchens gleefully; and, with a free schedule, he’d thought maybe he should go help Hagrid de-gnome his garden. A second later he’d wondered who he’d even become, but he’d gone down to Hagrid’s hut anyway and spent the afternoon socializing. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As he entered the castle, he saw Potter and his friends talking animatedly to each other as they walked. They were so engrossed in their conversation he doubted they’d noticed him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“-- think that Black is hiding there,” he heard Ron say, and Regulus perked up, ducking into a nearby hallway to hide.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Why else would Dumbledore need me to open it?” argued Potter.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He’s not even a Parselmouth,” Hermione pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He was Voldemort’s most trusted servant, what if he taught him?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You can’t teach Parseltongue, mate, it’s --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Their speech and footsteps were abruptly cut off. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s sundown, you three should not be wandering the halls at night. Return to your common room,” McGonagall’s sharp voice said. The footsteps resumed, growing distant as the students trudged back to Gryffindor Tower. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ah, Antares,” McGonagall said, startling Regulus. She eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t comment on the fact that he was pressed up against a wall next to a suit of armor. “Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office at your earliest convenience.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Right, um, thank you, Minerva,” he said, trying and failing to act as though he had a perfectly legitimate reason to be here. She nodded, still frowning, and walked away. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus made his way to the office as quickly as he could. He knocked on the door, but barely waited for Dumbledore’s reply before entering. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What did you find in the Chamber of Secrets?” he demanded. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Nothing, as I suspected,” Dumbledore replied, and Regulus felt disappointment crash in his chest. “However, I did get to hear Harry using Parseltongue to open it, and was able to imitate those sounds for my own purposes.” He gestured to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There, on the table where the Pensive had been before, lay the locket that Regulus had sacrificed his life for. He stepped forward, not believing his eyes, then lifted it up and turned it over in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The locket was destroyed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Regulus sees a Grim and has some conversations, feat. Sirius probably being very confused.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A clarification on the timeline: this is a canon divergence, but not a major one -- all of the major events (department of mysteries, battle of hogwarts, etc) will happen, although differently. The differences will get... more pronounced the later in the series it is.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Regulus pulled at the edges of his cloak, his breath catching the fading sunlight for a moment before dissipating into the air. He could hear Hagrid and Pomona talking, but he tuned them out, busying himself by counting each student as they came down from the castle, travelling in tiny packs. By now, he’d counted enough to make up roughly two-thirds of one of his classes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>December had rolled into February as though there was no month in between, and February had continued in a similar fashion; Regulus had been shocked when a week ago Pomona approached him, reminding him of their plan to collect mooncalf dung with the third-years. He’d gotten Hagrid to agree to be the third chaperone with no trouble, and they’d gotten to preparing the third-years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Pausing his counting, he glanced nervously up at the full moon, which hung just above the horizon. He reminded himself that Lupin would’ve taken Wolfsbane Potion tonight, and that their path through the Forbidden Forest was a safe one. The students, he could see, didn’t seem nearly as confident; the groups nearest to him kept casting fearful glances at the Forest. He counted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Twenty-seven, twenty-eight</span>
  </em>
  <span>… Pomona began handing out pails and shovels, but Regulus stayed back, lurking at the edge of the gathering crowd. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“This is outrageous,” he heard Draco say to his followers, looking at the bucket he’d been handed with disgust. “My father’s on the board of governors. This shouldn’t be allowed, bringing us into the Forbidden Forest on a full moon. There are probably werewolves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus forced himself to focus on the other, more pleasant students. He had just tuned in to Goldstein and Macmillan’s conversation when Draco’s voice cut through the crowd. It was like Regulus was programmed to hear him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Oy, Potter! Are you excited to go into the forest? There might be dementors,” he said, the Slytherins around him trying -- and failing -- to do dementor impressions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Buzz off, Malfoy,” Potter grumbled, collecting his pail from Pomona. She was watching the interaction with far more interest than strictly necessary, in Regulus’s opinion. Blessedly, the final student arrived before Malfoy could reply, and Regulus stepped forward and cleared his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I am sure you are all aware that there are highly dangerous creatures in the forest. As such, you will need to stay with the group and within our sight the entire time. If you fail to do so, you will receive detention and lose house points,” he said calmly. “As you are all aware, we are going into the forest to watch the dance of the mooncalves and collect their manure for your Herbology class. This is a unique opportunity, and I would caution you not to waste it. If any of you attempt to disturb the mooncalves in any way, there will be severe consequences. Are there any questions?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Several hands shot into the air. He pointed at Padma Patil. “Are there werewolves?” she asked, and half of the hands lowered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Of course that was what they’d ask. “No, there are no werewolves. Miss Abbott?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“What if Sirius Black is hiding in the forest?” she asked, sounding mildly panicked. “He can --”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Sirius Black cannot transform into a plant, Miss Abbott,” Regulus replied, his voice impressively level. At least he had the benefit of having heard her ridiculous theory about a hundred times by now. “And the Forbidden Forest is dangerous even to him. Were he hiding in it, Dumbledore would have been informed of it by the centaurs. Regardless, you have three highly capable chaperones who would defend you if anything came up.” His words seemed to do nothing to calm the students, who were now whispering anxiously. “If you would all just follow Mr. Hagrid, he will be leading us to the mooncalves,” he said, giving up on comforting them. They’d feel better once it was over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger, somewhat predictably, rushed to the front, patting Fang on the head before beginning to chat animatedly with Hagrid. Her usual companions, on the other hand, hung back, avoiding her as they had been all semester. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Scared of the dementors, Potter?” Draco taunted as him and his posse passed them. Merlin’s sake, did he only have one insult?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Look, Malfoy --” Ron growled, stepping forward, but Regulus interrupted him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“That is enough, I’ll have none of your arguing today! Five points from each of your houses,” he snapped. Draco scowled, but the students continued into the forest, Regulus taking his place at the back of the procession, lighting his wand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly, the man hates us,” he heard Ron hiss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?” he asked before he could think better of it. The boy in question jumped, and he could see some of the students ahead turn back to look at Regulus. Ron hesitated, but squared his shoulders and spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, actually. Why are you so much crueler to us than your other classes? Sending us to shovel dung in the Forbidden Forest, are you trying to make us miserable?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>That was… direct, in a way Regulus hadn’t been expecting. He kept his face calm, not reacting to Ron’s question -- not that it mattered much, given the darkness. “I hardly see how assigning you relevant work constitutes being cruel. Am I to believe that in your other classes, your teachers allow you to fritter away your time aimlessly?” he asked, sweeping his wand over the surrounding area. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“It’s not just that!” Ron said. “It’s the house points. And how you act,” he added. “I mean, the way Fred and George say you act is completely different than how you act with us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“My fifth-years are more mature and responsible than your year,” he replied, making an effort to speak calmly instead of snapping like he felt the need to. “It stands to reason that they should be losing less house points than you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Ron actually snorted. “Are you calling Fred and George responsible?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus bit back the urge to take five points from Gryffindor. Merlin, he knew he’d been biased and irritable, but he hadn’t realized how much it had become a reflex at this point. “Regardless of their… general behavior, they perform well in my class. Their clabberts are among the most well-cared for and closely bonded of my fifth-years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Pretty sure their clabberts are broken anyway,” Ron muttered. “Half of the time they light up for me and half of the time they don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus wondered what a clabbert bonded to him would think of Sirius, and he almost felt the urge to smile. “That’s not wholly unsurprising, given that you’re their brother,” he commented.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron shrugged. “I guess,” he muttered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Professor Crow?” a new voice asked timidly, and he turned back toward the students to see that Lavender Brown had fallen back to join them. “I’ve spoken with Padma, and it seems like you’re harsher on our class than on theirs, too. That’s not a difference of age.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Well, perhaps if Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy could refrain from constantly harassing each other and disturbing class, this wouldn’t be an issue,” he replied, annoyance leaking into his tone. It wasn’t the truth, but it was close enough to feel like he was giving something away. “Pay attention to where you’re going,” he added, which had the desired effect of reminding his students where they were. Lavender looked at the trees nervously before returning to her friends. Potter, on the other hand, only stared at him defiantly. Regulus eyed him warily, but before Potter could speak, Ron tugged on his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“It’s not worth it, mate,” he muttered, throwing a glare over his shoulder at Regulus. Regulus met his eyes until he looked away, and then resumed scanning the forest. Merlin, he’d forgotten how exhausting students were. Or maybe it was just third-years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Ahead of him, Potter stopped abruptly, staring into the trees to his right. His wand dangled loosely at his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Is everything alright?” Regulus asked, alarmed. His head snapped to the side and he raised his arm, shining light into the area he’d been staring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Yeah, I just… thought I saw something.” he said, hurrying ahead. Regulus frowned, glancing between the line of students and the darkness where Potter had paused. He shouldn’t leave them, but if it was something dangerous… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Quietly, he split off from the group, making his way through the trees to the right. He paused, listening. Beyond the chatter of the students and his own breath, it was as though all was still -- except there, ahead, a rustling in the bushes. He set off after it, trying to make as little noise as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    His light fell upon something big, and black, and furry. The Grim whipped around, staring at him. A soft growl rose from its throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The first time might’ve been the dementors, or a delusion, but again? It was here, so close that the light illuminated each individual hair on its body, the curve of its lip and the edge of a fang that peeked out as it growled. If he reached out, he could’ve pet it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    He had been meant to die in that cave, and Death was chasing after him now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The Grim didn’t move. Time felt stretched, its only measurement the way that their breath would crystalize in the air and drift toward the stars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I don’t know how I lived, okay?” he whispered, the words feeling so heavy he felt as though they should fall to the ground. “If my soul is past its due, then take it. No more omens. Just kill me or leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    It would hurt, maybe, but at least he’d be on solid ground, with winter air in his lungs; no drowning this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The Grim cocked its head, turned tail and left, bounding into the forest. Regulus blinked, lowering his wand. It had left. It had </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    He could deal with that later. He turned around, heading back to the students. A few turned around as he re-entered the line, looking surprised. Potter fell back to meet him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Did you, er, see anything?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “No,” Regulus lied, and Potter hurried ahead. Within a few minutes, they had arrived at the wide clearing where the mooncalves usually came out. The sun had fully sunk beneath the horizon. Now all they had to do was wait. He walked among the students, making sure they weren’t too far into the clearing, before making his way toward the side where Pomona was standing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    In the distance, he began to hear the characteristic flopping of large webbed feet, and the first mooncalf emerged from the trees. The students gasped; he was sure he heard a few of them squealing over its enormous eyes and soft fur. It flicked its ear lazily before rising onto its two hind legs and beginning to dance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    It seemed as though it should be unsteady when it stood, as its neck was longer than its torso and nearly as thick. But it moved with grace, its wide feet providing a somewhat stable base. Rather than falling from the weight of its head, it used its momentum to guide the rest of its body. It reminded Regulus of someone trying to balance a wand on the tip of their finger, the bottom always playing catch up with the top. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Others soon joined the first, dancing in harmony with it. The grass flattened beneath their tromping feet in measured, symmetric patterns. Regulus remembered feeling in awe when Professor Kettleburn had shown this to his class. How intentional it all seemed, how clean. He’d thought humans were the only ones who could </span>
  <em>
    <span>create</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “It’s like they know something we don’t, isn’t it?” Pomona said softly from beside him. “Like they can all hear the same melody, and we’re deaf to it.” Regulus considered that. A phantom beat, perpetually guiding them; a unified species, dancing toward the same goal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    If only it were that simple for everyone else. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>    Regulus picked his way through the bleachers, settling down at the edge of the teachers’ box. He was early -- most of the faculty hadn’t arrived yet -- but already, he could hear the low rumbling of the crowd as they filled in the bleachers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Big game today,” Lupin commented, taking a seat next to Regulus. He fought the urge to slide away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Trust me, I know,” he replied drily. “It’s all Wood’s been able to talk about for the last two weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “The Gryffindor captain? He didn’t take NEWT level Defense, so I’ve been spared. Cedric, though…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Regulus hummed. “He’s been worried, certainly, but he’s much more quiet about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I mean, he should be. You’ve heard about the Firebolt incident, I assume?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The Firebolt… he’d been half tempted to get one for himself, honestly. Harry Potter recieving one from a mysterious, anonymous benefactor had been the talk of the school since McGonagall had returned it to him. Her worries, of course, had been relayed through the staff’s gossip like wildfire, and Regulus couldn’t help agreeing with her. It had to be Sirius, didn’t it? Them finding that the broom wasn’t tampered with only cemented his belief that Sirius hadn’t betrayed James.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “It’s a good broom, but it really comes down to skill,” he replied. “Diggory has years of experience.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Lupin shook his head. “I’ve heard that Harry is a natural on a broom, though,” he said, in that warm way he always talked about Potter. “His dad was, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Regulus sniffed, turning toward the field. “I suppose we’ll see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The crowds roared as the players filed out. Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and they shot into the sky, Potter remarkably fast. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good broom. Rather than watching the main action, Regulus found his eyes drifting back to the two Seekers. They were both quite good, much as he hated to admit it. As he watched, Potter dove downward, Diggory quickly following. Potter pulled sharply out of the dive, tearing off in another direction. A moment later, he whipped out his wand and a large silver stag burst forth. Before Regulus could process what was happening, the surrounding teachers were on their feet -- Lupin was cheering madly -- and the whistle was being blown to signal the end of the match. He leapt to his feet as well, peering onto the field, where there seemed to be… dementors? No, they didn’t move quite right, and they’d been knocked to the ground. He tailed McGonagall, trying to get a better look at what had happened; where she went, the crowds parted easily. Eventually, they came to the dementors -- or to be more accurate, the Slytherins who were failing meekly on the ground, trying to crawl themselves out of their tangled cloaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The Slytherin captain -- whose name Regulus didn’t know -- Crabbe, Goyle… and Draco. Of course it was Draco.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Regulus turned and left, revulsion filling him. Draco was not like his mother, and, as much as he obviously tried to be, he wasn’t like Lucius either. He was far more like Sirius or Bella, who wielded their cruelty like a blunt knife. But unlike them, he had none of the power to back it up -- just cheap tricks and party costumes. Regulus had hoped that he’d be like Cissa, just a little bit like her -- her gentleness, maybe, but he would’ve settled for her petty, pointed gossip. Draco had </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was, in a word, pathetic. Regulus hated himself for thinking it, but he was pretty sure he hated Draco more. How he could possibly be Cissa’s son, Regulus didn’t know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>She was a bad person, he reminded himself. She wasn’t a Death Eater, but she certainly believed in the movement. She was a bad person, but she had been good to him -- maybe the only member of his family who really had been. And now… now he couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t let her know he was alive; now he was her enemy. And to top it all off, her son was possibly the most annoying child he’d ever met. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    What was Regulus even </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing </span>
  </em>
  <span>here? Siri hadn’t -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t been spotted since Hallowe’en, and he didn’t need to be at Hogwarts to help Dumbledore. Where else could he go, though? Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was more haunted than the castle, and no amount of staying there was going to give him back the life he’d thrown away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>    Regulus woke that night to a pounding at his door. He sat up immediately, heart racing, his hand clutching his wand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Report to the staff room immediately,” he heard Pomona call from behind the door before hurrying off, her footsteps slapping loudly against the stone floor. He hurriedly pulled on his robes and downed some Polyjuice Potion, waiting until the familiar burning sensation had passed before rushing out the door. He adjusted his robes minutely as he speedwalked down the corridor, straightening them out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “What’s going on?” he demanded as he passed Pomona.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Sirius Black,” she replied, fear edging her voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “He’s back?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Staff room,” she snapped, knocking on someone else’s door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Sirius. Sirius was back. In the castle, again? Or maybe this was because he’d been caught, and they were going to give him to the dementors…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Ah, Mr. Crow,” McGonagall said as he entered the staff room, her face drawn. “Sirius Black was spotted in the Gryffindor common room, attempting to attack a student. You’ll be searching the grounds again. Hagrid has already begun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Attacking a student?” he asked in alarm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “No time for questions, I’m afraid, you’ll get more information later. Go, go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Regulus rushed out, lighting his wand. He began where the Whomping Willow stood, skirting around its range, and from there started to scan the rest of the grounds. Sirius attacking a student -- that meant that they were right, that he was a Death Eater -- but he couldn’t be -- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Regulus focused on the search, but it was fruitless. He had to have gotten in through the Forbidden Forest somehow. It was the only place that they couldn’t look; even if they tried, there were too many places to hide, and the centaurs would drive them off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Once it had been determined that he was gone, the staff settled down, McGonagall standing in front of them. Lupin, Regulus noted, was gripping the arms of his chair with far more force than required, while Severus was glancing between the two of them as though he couldn’t decide who to glare at. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Sirius Black,” McGonagall began, “was found standing over Ronald Weasley’s bed, wielding a knife.” She stood with her usual perfect posture, but her face was weary, as though she’d aged exponentially in the hours since he’d last seen her. “When the boy awoke, he fled, although the reason is unclear. Neville Longbottom,” she continued, sounding both pained and frustrated, “had written down the week’s passwords and lost them. This is how Mr. Black was able to enter the tower.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The teachers around him made various sounds of incredulity. Longbottom -- he was forgetful, sure, and a little bit dull, but he worked hard, and knowing what Bella had done to his parents… he was quite possibly the only student in that class that Regulus hadn’t snapped at. But this was exponentially more foolish than anything he’d done in Regulus’s class.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Why flee?” he asked. “If he was after Potter, why would he flee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Perhaps,” drawled Severus, staring at him with a look of utter hatred, “he didn’t want to get caught.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Why not just kill Weasley, too? If he -- he didn’t mind killing a whole street full of Muggles, why would one boy matter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Death Eaters… wizard blood is sacred,” explained McGonagall. “Perhaps he didn’t want to kill a pureblood child.” Regulus nearly snorted. Blood traitors like the Weasleys were just as bad, honestly. Bella wouldn’t even blink before killing them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “What are we supposed to do now?” asked a different teacher -- Babbling, he thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The room was silent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Eventually, McGonagall spoke. “I suppose we hope for the best.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>    The next night, Regulus found himself climbing the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    When he’d been in school, it had been one of the two places he’d gone when he needed to think, the other being the kitchens. Since coming to work here, he’d favored his office or the thestrals instead. But there was something about the Astronomy Tower -- the solitude, the freedom. His family, there in name but without all of the expectations that came with them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    The night air was refreshing in a way that nothing else was. There was a slight breeze; when he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was flying. He breathed in deeply, forcing his muscles to relax, and opened his eyes again, letting himself take in the wonder of the night sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “It’s nice up here, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Regulus jumped, spinning around. The Astronomy professor stood at the edge of the tower, her tall hat seeming a black void against the sky. He’d talked to her only once or twice before, although he’d seen her around -- like the Divination teacher, she tended to keep odd hours and kept to her part of the castle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Do you know which one’s yours?” she asked, joining him and looking up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I -- no,” Regulus admitted. He could point out Regulus or Sirius in a heartbeat, but he hadn’t bothered to learn where Antares was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    She hummed. “The heart of the scorpion. You know, I was certain Wilhemina was going to get your job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Pardon?” Regulus asked, startled by the sudden shift in conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank. She was Kettleburn’s substitute every time he needed one, so I thought she would be the next Care of Magical Creatures professor. We all did,” she explained. “Imagine our surprise when Dumbledore handed us you. How old are you again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Twenty,” he replied. It was true, mostly. His birthday had passed in January, marked only by a tiny cake that Kreacher had left in his room. He wasn’t sure if he should change it, for better accuracy. He’d gone to the cave in August, and woken in May; a few extra months had been added to his consciousness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “So young,” she commented, “and mysterious. You’re named after the stars, though. That counts for something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Sirius Black is named after the stars, and he’s a mass murderer.” Regulus didn’t know why he was arguing this; if anything, it would make him more suspicious. But Siri had gotten in, again. Regulus still thought he was here for an object, not Potter, but the knife he’d wielded seemed to imply otherwise. He’d come here to think things out, but now that someone else was here, he found himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>saying</span>
  </em>
  <span> things. Merlin. When was the last time he’d actually dared to talk about something important? Something like Sirius?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Mmm, yes. The dog star, the brightest star in the night sky.” She seemed unconcerned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “I don’t get it,” he said softly. “He managed to get in through all of our defenses, and we have no idea how. How can they keep the school open, knowing he’s coming?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “How can they close it?” she countered. “Hogwarts hasn’t been shut down since its beginning. Nearly, last year, but… it’s a symbol. The rest of the wizarding world can be at war, but Hogwarts is untouchable. For Merlin’s sake, they didn’t shut down the school for You-Know-Who himself. Closing it for Sirius Black would be admitting that a single Death Eater is stronger than his master, the Ministry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dumbledore. The public would shit themselves in terror,” she added. “Besides, the boy’s invincible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    Regulus frowned. “He’s gotten lucky. That doesn’t mean he can’t die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    She waved her hand through the air, unconcerned. “You’re a magizoologist. How would you like to fight a basilisk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    That was… a point. “He’s thirteen, though. He shouldn’t be expected to fight for his life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “No, he shouldn’t,” Aurora agreed. After a pause, she added, “He lives with Muggles, you know. He wouldn’t be safer there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Bringing him here puts all of the other students at risk though, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “He didn’t hurt the other boy,” she pointed out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “No, he didn’t,” Regulus agreed, echoing her. “What if…” he began, hesitating. “Maybe he’s not here for Potter. He could be trying to get, I don’t know, an object or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Mmm, perhaps,” she replied, not sounding the least bit surprised by his theory. “Minerva certainly seems convinced he’s after the boy, and I tend to trust her. It does seem like the type of extraordinarily stupid thing a Gryffindor like him would do, breaking into Hogwarts just to get some object. He always did strike me as… brash.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “You knew him?” asked Regulus, not quite managing to keep the surprise out of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Not personally, no. He was a seventh-year in my first year at Hogwarts. He was difficult to miss, though. Conspicuous, like his namesake.” Regulus tried to remember her from his time at Hogwarts, but came up blank. He’d had too many other things on his mind at the time to keep track of all the younger students. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “What house were you in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>    “Ravenclaw,” she responded, smiling. “I nearly got put in Slytherin. I still have an affinity for them, honestly, but I think I would’ve died if I had to live in the dungeons. Ravenclaw Tower is much more free.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Well, that was what sneaking up here was for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I wouldn’t worry about trying to understand Sirius Black, if I were you. I never trust celebrities, even to act logically.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Celebrities -- he supposed that was what Sirius was, now, to most of the wizarding world. Regulus wondered how many people thought of him as more than that. Himself, Severus, and Lupin remembered the old Sirius… but even Dumbledore seemed to have pushed that aside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“What about the Headmaster? He’s one of the most famous men in the world.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>Aurora grinned. “Oh yes, and with a spotless reputation. I wonder how many skeletons he has in his closet?” She paused. “It’s not that I don’t believe he’s a good person. It’s just that… I know his birthday, his titles, his hobbies, his favorite type of music and his favorite flavor cake. Do you know how many conversations I’ve had with him about things other than school? None. Isn’t that a little bit fucked up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Maybe,” Regulus admitted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“It makes you complacent. You think you know them, you think you understand them, because you know so much. But you haven’t even met them. You don’t know anything. The public can debate the motivations and plans of Sirius Black all they want, but no one really knows who he is, just what he’s let us see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>But Regulus knew him. Didn’t he? It had been years since they’d spoken, even longer since they’d had anything resembling a meaningful conversation. He knew that Siri was devoted to James, but that was common knowledge. If Severus believed he’d betrayed James -- if Lupin did -- </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Maybe it was time he had a conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Thank you,” he said to Aurora. “For the talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Goodnight, heart-of-the-scorpion,” she replied, and Regulus left her -- and the stars -- behind.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As someone with a soft spot for Draco Malfoy... Regulus hating him is hard to write lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Regulus has drinks and conversations.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>The Three Broomsticks pulsated with warmth, and laughter, and life; it was the type of place that seemed designed specifically for the creation of bittersweet memories, longing for days past. Merlin, but had it always been so crowded in here? Nearly all the tables were full, and on the floor people swirled around each other, making their way to and from the counter. The air was sticky-sweet, infused with butterbeer.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus cut through the crowds, winding over to where Lupin had just settled down at a table. He’d considered cornering him in his office, throughout the week, but here was better; more ways to leave, less direct confrontation. This was already going to be bad enough without being trapped in a room alone with him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Remus,” he said. “May I join you?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Of course,” he replied, looking surprised. To be fair, Regulus was pretty sure he’d never willingly approached the man. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He sat, and Lupin offered him a vaguely confused smile. “I need to talk to you about Sirius Black,” he said, and the smile dropped from Lupin’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m not sure how I can help you,” he said stiffly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You were friends with him,” Regulus replied. “Before. You knew him, it’s common knowledge. I’m… afraid,” he bit out, and Lupin visibly softened. All truths, technically; Regulus was tired of lying. “I want to know more. What changed?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin sighed, his shoulders folding in toward each other. He looked exhausted. “I don’t know.” He paused, his fingers tapping against the side of his mug of butterbeer. Regulus suddenly wished he had one, so his hands wouldn’t feel so out of place. “He was always volatile, but I thought… we all thought that he had a good heart. Strong convictions. We should’ve seen it coming, maybe. I mean, his whole family…”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus pushed down the anger that he felt rising forcing himself to remain relaxed. “His whole family..?” he prompted. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They’re… extreme blood purists. Several of them are Death Eaters, as well. But Sirius was different. I thought he was different. Evidently, I was too blinded by affection to notice what he really was.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus was silent.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You don’t need to worry about him,” Lupin said softly. “The castle </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> well defended, even if he's managed to get in. And I… I will not let anything happen to Harry. I would kill Sirius myself, if it came down to it.” The words weren’t nearly as comforting as Lupin seemed to think they were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he hadn’t told Regulus anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said stiffly, standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Lupin said quickly, gesturing for him to sit back down. Regulus remained standing, not sure of what he wanted. Lupin waved for Madam Rosmerta, ordering two butterbeers. “It’s your turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?” Why had he ever thought approaching Lupin was a good idea? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your turn,” he repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know anything about Sirius Black,” he replied, although he was pretty sure that wasn’t what Lupin was going for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I meant -- tell me about yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at Lupin, weighing his options. Refusing might be suspicious, but sharing his fake backstory with Remus Lupin over drinks... a conversation with Severus might be less tortuous, honestly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said flatly. Lupin didn’t look surprised, just a little bit sad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pitying, actually. Regulus bristled, sitting down heavily in the chair. “Fine,” he snapped. “What do you want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on his reaction. “Anything, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My favorite season is autumn, my favorite color is purple. I used to draw some, but now my only hobby is reading. Are you satisfied?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s what you’re comfortable telling me,” Lupin replied, offering Regulus a smile. “I prefer springtime, myself. I like seeing the plants as they’re just coming to life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regulus shook his head. “All you have to look forward to is summer, and that’s terrible. Autumn is a deliverance from the heat. Besides, I grew up in the city,” he admitted. “I never noticed the first shoots of spring, but it’s hard to miss the fall colors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you like it there?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to say. He had, before, when things had been good between Siri and everyone else. But once things had gotten worse, when the tension in the house had been palpable no matter where you were… it would’ve been nice to have open fields and forests, like at the manor where Cissa and the others had grown up. Somewhere else to go when the house felt suffocating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said smoothly. “I had a very happy childhood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judging from the look on Lupin’s face -- that pity again -- he didn’t quite believe it. He opened his mouth to speak, but Regulus interrupted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is ridiculous,” he snapped, rising. “Goodbye, Remus,” he added, Lupin’s goodbye fading into the background chatter as he left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Later that week, Regulus found himself heading down to Hagrid’s hut, a repelling charm keeping him dry in the near-torrential rain. He’d found himself going there more and more often in the past few months. Time with Hagrid was uncomplicated in a way that time in the castle wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He could do without the rain, though. And the </span>
  <em>
    <span>mud</span>
  </em>
  <span>; he was sure his shoes were going to be completely covered by the end of the night. That had been one of the most unexpected things he’d had to adapt to after becoming Care of Magical Creatures professor -- practical shoes, made more for weathering, well, the weather than for style. Even so, these shoes might end up ruined. Regulus winced as he heard them quelching and sliding along the path.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He knocked loudly on the door of the hut, trying to be heard over the cacophony of noise. From inside, there came a loud scraping sound, and the next moment the door swung open to reveal Hagrid.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Antares, hello,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. Regulus tried to follow his gaze, but couldn’t see past his hulking form. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Is now a bad time?” he asked, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Er… no, ’s alrigh’, yeh can come on in,” he replied, looking somewhat guilty as he let Regulus pass.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus stepped inside. As always, the hut gave Regulus the vague impression of being neither inside nor outside; there were clearly walls and a roof, but the dampness of the air and the perpetual sound of rain made it feel as though it were merely another part of nature. As he dropped his charm, he felt tiny water droplets bouncing off of the windowsill and misting his clothes. The main difference from outside was the heat radiating from the fireplace, next to which sat Hermione Granger, crying. A bundle of orange fur was clutched tightly to her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She looked a mess, and mortified; as his eyes landed on her, she quickly straightened up, wiping at her face.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m s-sorry, I --” she began.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, no, it’s fine,” said Regulus quickly, feeling panicked. He could barely remember the last time he’d seen someone cry, much less what to do about it. “Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The boys have bin givin’ her trouble,” Hagrid explained. “Won’ let up ’bout the fact tha’ Crookshanks here mighta eaten Ron’s rat.” As he watched, the fur shifted, revealing yellow eyes peering out of a squashed, grumpy face. The cat leapt out of Granger’s arms, winding over to Regulus. It sniffed him suspiciously, neither overtly hostile nor friendly. Regulus reached down to pet it, but it ducked out of the way and went back to Granger. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He’s very cute,” Regulus noted. “Is he part kneazle?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Granger sniffed, drying her eyes. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t told that when I bought him, but he’s very intelligent, and he has some kneazle-like features. Do you think he is?” she asked, sounding almost hopeful. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s quite possible,” Regulus replied, and she brightened. The way Crookshanks looked at him indicated far more knowledge than the average cat. It would unnerve him if it wasn’t so adorable. Granger didn’t respond to his comment, so he moved on. “It’s nearly nightfall, you shouldn’t be out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Tha’s me fault,” Hagrid admitted. “I know I shoulda sent her back, but I figured I’d let her stay a little later this time. Yeh won’ get her in trouble, will yeh?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus looked at the girl. “No,” he agreed. “So long as she doesn’t do it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeh can walk her back when she goes, ter make sure she stays safe. Would the two o’ yeh want ter stay fer another cup o’ tea?” he asked hopefully. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus looked between them, and glanced at the rain outside. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> come here for tea, but dealing with a crying student hadn’t been part of that plan. “We should really get back. If Miss Granger would like to join us for tea some other time, she would be more than welcome,” he added, mostly to appease Hagrid; there was no way she’d take them up on it, anyway. He opened the door and re-cast his charm as she stood, gathering up her cat. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They made their way toward the castle in silence. Regulus felt as though he should say something, but he didn’t know what. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> one of his best students, and was really rather tolerable most of the time, even if she could be a bit of a know-it-all. It seemed that Harry Potter, like his father, barreled through people without care for their feelings, even his supposed best friends. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Your paper on the handling and uses of fire crabs was quite good,” he finally said, hoping it wasn’t insensitive to start talking about a different subject. She brightened immediately, giving him a still slightly watery smile.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Do you think so? I was hoping it wouldn’t be too much. I mean, no one else I talked to wrote anything about the history of fire crab poaching.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You were the only one,” he conceded. “It wasn’t strictly necessary, given the requirements I set for the essay. It is, however, important to consider the effects wizards have had upon magical beasts, particularly endangered ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes!” she exclaimed, gloom seemingly forgotten. “Wizarding history is so rich, but so many people I’ve talked to just ignore the way that great wizards negatively impacted others in their quest for knowledge or power.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>What would </span>
  </em>
  <span>you</span>
  <em>
    <span> know about wizarding history?</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Regulus thought automatically, before correcting himself. She almost certainly knew more than he did. She was a witch, and she had every right to be. How many times would he have to tell himself that before he could stop hearing the voices of his family insisting that mudbloods like her were worthless?</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He’d been silent too long; she was staring at him with a cautious, confused look on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m not sure you have the right to fault them for seeking knowledge, Miss Granger,” he said wryly, and she smiled, ducking her head.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I wouldn’t hurt anyone to get it,” she declared earnestly. Regulus wondered how true that was.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I sincerely hope that you don’t,” he said, stopping at the stairs leading up to Gryffindor Tower. “I trust you can find your way from here. Goodnight, Miss Granger.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Goodnight, Professor. Thank you,” she added as she left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Since Draco’s stunt at the Quidditch match, Regulus’s favor had shifted noticeably away from him and as a consequence, toward Potter and his friends. His spite-induced preference for Potter faded immediately after his talk with Granger, and the month following was excruciating for nearly everyone in that class, Regulus included. He retained his previous annoyance with Draco, but Potter and Ron in particular ended up on the receiving end of his ire. He was fairly certain all three of them hated him, which was fine.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It did, however, make it somewhat confusing when Ron and Granger showed up -- together -- at Hagrid’s hut at teatime. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s just that you said if I wanted, I could join you for tea a different time,” she explained.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well, yes,” Regulus responded, somewhat flustered. He hadn’t meant for her to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, though. “But you shouldn’t be out so late. How did you even sneak out here?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We just -- got lucky,” Ron offered meekly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m surprised to see you here, Mr. Weasley,” he said coldly. “I was under the impression that you and Miss Granger weren’t speaking.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Er, well -- I mean, Scabbers was pretty old,” he said, glancing at Granger. “Probably didn’t have that much life left in him, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s Harry,” Granger said. “We’re worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“All righ’, all righ’. Why don’ yeh two sit down? Do yeh want some scones? Made ‘em meself,” Hagrid said proudly. He'd presented Regulus with one earlier, explaining that it was from the recipe book he’d given him; they were significantly more edible than his rock cakes, although still not entirely to Regulus’s taste.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The children sat, accepting both scones and tea, and when all four of them were settled at the table, Granger spoke again. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s just that, with everything going on -- Harry’s gotten it in his mind that he has to find Sirius Black,” she explained, her voice rushed and upset. Finding Sirius… that couldn’t be so bad, if Siri was innocent. Which he had to be, of course. If Harry found him, he could get the full story, maybe clear his name.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’ve tried to tell him that trying to kill You-Know-Who’s right hand man isn’t a good idea, but he refuses to listen to reason,” Ron added.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Kill him?” Regulus asked, alarmed. In that case, it could go very, very badly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Granger nodded. “He pretends to listen to us, but we can tell he’s not, really, and he’s just been acting so strange lately.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He thinks Black killed his Mum and Dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“All the more reason not teh go chasin’ after him!” Hagrid bellowed. “I oughta go talk to ‘im. Findin’ Sirius Black…”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, you can’t!” Granger said quickly. “He can’t know we’ve told you. We just didn’t know what else to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t know that you’d be here,” Ron added bitterly, glaring at Regulus.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And what do you think we can do, if we’re to keep this a secret?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Granger shrugged helplessly. “Keep an eye on him?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>“‘s no use. Yeh know how good ’e is at </span>
  <em>
    <span>sneakin</span>
  </em>
  <span>’,” Hagrid said, staring at the children meaningfully. Regulus felt as though he was missing something important.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh, no, he can’t, er, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sneak</span>
  </em>
  <span> lately,” Ron responded, grinning. “It’s a long story.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’ve got plenty of time,” said Regulus sharply. Noticing things he was supposed to -- secrets -- was what he did; he hated feeling like he didn’t know what was going on.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The three others glanced between each other. “We’d better not, actually,” said Ron. Granger glanged at Regulus apologetically, but didn’t contradict him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Evidently no one else was, either, because they seemed suddenly preoccupied with their tea. Eventually, Hagrid broke the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well, I’m glad yeh’re friends again, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah,” said Ron, looking guilty. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You could try getting him to focus on Quidditch,” Regulus offered. It’d been an effective way of distracting him, during his school days.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’ve tried. The match is in ages, Wood isn’t even stressed yet,” Ron said glumly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I can change that,” Regulus responded. It wouldn’t be hard; he was pretty sure he’d only have to casually ask Wood about Quidditch training to get him worked up. The boy seemed to be perpetually teetering on the edge of a breakdown.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And after Quidditch is over, we can get him to focus on exams,” Granger added thoughtfully.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ron snorted. “Good luck with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The conversation drifted to other, less pressing topics. After tea was over and Regulus had returned the students safely to Gryffindor Tower, he paced around his room.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He should tell someone -- he should tell everyone, actually. It was the logical, safe thing to do. Hadn’t he promised to choose the students over Sirius? And yet --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>What if this caused them to double down on finding him? Or Dumbledore heard about Potter’s willingness and used him as bait to capture Sirius? Regulus wouldn’t put it past him, if he thought he could keep the boy safe in the process. And of course, there was always the possibility that Potter would see his teachers’ interference and end up doing something even more stupid or reckless. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus would keep their secret, for now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>For two months, it seemed like he had made the right decision. The Quidditch final came and went; Slytherin won the cup, but Gryffindor’s defeat of Ravenclaw pulled them into second place. Exams approached, and Regulus was nearly as stressed as the students were. Apparently Potter was, too, because Ron would shoot Regulus thumbs-ups during class when Potter wasn’t looking.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>When his last class of exams finished on Thursday, Regulus had piled the papers in his office and gone down to Hagrid’s. He would be staying for a while after term ended, but it still felt like an ending. They chatted about various things -- magical creatures, Regulus’s students -- and snacked on Hagrid’s latest basking experiment -- cookies, which were good enough that Regulus found himself reaching for more.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The door burst open as they were talking about hippogriffs, and Harry Potter materialized out of nowhere. Regulus stared as he tossed a cloak over his arm. Did he have an invisibility cloak? Those were incredibly rare, how on Earth had he come by one? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Maybe it belonged to James; maybe this was what Sirius was after. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I need you to tell me everything you know about him,” Potter said coldly, paying no attention to Regulus. A moment later, Granger and Ron hurried into the hut, looking distressed. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Mate, calm down --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s happening tonight!” he shouted. “Tonight, before midnight!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Harry, you know that what Trelawney says is rubbish, please,” Granger pleaded.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“This one was different,” he insisted, gesturing wildly. His hand hit the milk jug, sending it toppling to the ground, but he ignored it.  Regulus waved his wand, cleaning up the pieces, and Granger made her way over to the cabinet to fetch a new one.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I need to find him. Tell me what you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“If I knew where ter find Sirius Black, he’d be caught by now! Yeh can’t go chasin’ after a mass murderer who wants yeh dead, Harry! Yer parents died to protec’ yeh, yeh think they’d wan’ yeh killin’ yerself?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They shouldn’t have died at all!” Potter shouted. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Scabbers?” Granger exclaimed, and all four heads turned toward her. She tipped the milk jug onto the table, revealing a scrawny, old looking rat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was what Ron had nearly ended their friendship over?</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Scabbers!” Ron said excitedly, scooping him up. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m taking you three back to the castle,” Regulus said, with as much authority as he could muster. “Mr. Potter, if the entire Ministry can’t find Black, you won’t be able to. Besides, he’s coming after you. All you have to do is wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There’s no time,” Potter insisted, but he let himself be shepherded out of the hut. Regulus let the three students go ahead of him, not wanting Potter to run away while he wasn’t looking. Halfway to the castle, he heard Ron start speaking to the rat, which was writhing in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Crookshanks! No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!” Granger said, and Regulus turned to see him stalking after them.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Scabbers -- NO!” Ron shouted, as the rat leapt out of his hands. The cat immediately pelted after it, and Ron followed without hesitation. Potter and Granger only paused for a moment before sprinting forward. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus, wishing he had a broom, followed them at a jog, and then a sprint. He hated running. Up ahead, he could hear a thump as Ron tackled the cat. A few moments later, Regulus finally caught up to them.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Enough, you three,” Regulus said, panting. “Let’s get back to the castle. Now,” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Before Ron had risen, Regulus heard something coming from behind him, a soft sort of thumping. He turned, and --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Not again.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You,” he said softly, staring into the eyes of the Grim. Out of the corner of his eye, he was Potter’s head whip toward him. Regulus braced himself, reaching for his wand, but the dog leapt past him, grabbing Ron by the arm and dragging him away. Regulus lifted his wand, opening his mouth --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Something crashed into his side, knocking him over. He groaned, reaching for his ribs. He squinted upward, trying to make out what had hit him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They were under the Whomping Willow. How lovely. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He rose, backing  away to get out of the Willow’s reach. Potter and Granger had been hit, too, but Potter kept darting forward. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Where’s Weasley?” Regulus demanded, as Granger whispered, “Help, help,” seemingly to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Crookshanks dodged the branches, pressing his paws against the tree, and it froze. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Crookshanks! How did he know --” she said. Potter was already striding toward the trunk of the tree.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He’s friends with that dog. I’ve seen them together. Come on,” he said. Granger scurried after him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Where are you two going?” snapped Regulus, following.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The dog pulled him into a gap at the roots,” Granger explained. Regulus watched as Potter vanished into it, then Granger. He lowered himself down. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>tiny</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dirty, too; he felt himself cringing as he brushed against the earth. Potter had already started forward along the low tunnel in front of them, bent almost entirely over.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What is this? Where does this lead?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I don’t know,” Potter responded. “I’ve never been.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You two should have waited. We could have gone for help.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You’re a teacher, aren’t you?” asked Potter flippantly. “You should be plenty help.” Regulus was silent. Merlin, that boy was annoying sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He felt relief crashing down on him as the tunnel began to rise. Relief, and fear. They were chasing a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grim</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And Ron -- if anything happened to him --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They emerged into a small, dilapidated room. Regulus felt his heart pounding as he looked around at the destroyed furniture and mysterious stains. What horrors had happened here? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I think we’re in the Shrieking Shack,” Granger whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We should leave,” Regulus said immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But Ron --” she began, but halted as they heard a loud creak from upstairs. All three of them froze, staring at the ceiling. Regulus’s eyes fell to the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He had to, didn’t he? He had to go forward, even though they were chasing an omen of death through a haunted house.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Stay here,” he said quietly, creeping down the hallway. Potter ignored him, and Granger, after a moment of hesitation, did too. They made their way up the stairs as quietly as they could, but their breath sounded impossibly loud to Regulus’s ears. They crept forward, toward the only cracked door. Regulus held out his arm to stop the students, pausing. He could hear Ron groaning from inside. Steeling himself, he flung open the door.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The students disregarded him immediately, rushing over to Ron. Regulus quickly glanced around the room, but the Grim was gone; where had it gone? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Harry, it’s a trap --” he heard Ron say. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s the dog</span>
  </em>
  <span>… </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s an Animagus…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The door snapped shut behind him, and Regulus whirled around.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He was older, yes; he was covered with dirt and completely unkempt, and he looked sickly and haunted. And yet, unmistakably, it was him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sirius,” Regulus said, as his brother wheezed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Expelliarmus!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which there are many revelations, feat. an obscene amount of book dialogue.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay, y'all, I was away from wifi on Tuesday. Here's a double update to make it up to you :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Regulus felt his wand fly out of his hand; Potte and Granger’s did, too. Sirius caught them deftly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I thought you’d come for your friend,” Sirius said, addressing Harry. “Your father would have done the same for me. Unfortunate that you had to bring the teacher, but I don’t think he’ll be all that much of a problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Potter started forward, but his friends restrained him. Regulus quickly stepped in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You won’t hurt the boy,” he said. He almost wanted to laugh from the irony of it all. Here he was, defending James Potter’s son from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I will die before I let that happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Awfully eager to die, aren’t you?” Sirius asked, grinning. Right; he was the Grim, apparently, which meant he’d heard everything that Regulus had said to it. Regulus flushed. “Don’t worry,” he continued. “There will only be one death tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Why’s that? Didn’t care last time, did you? Didn’t mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew… What’s the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?” Potter said, struggling against his friends’ hands. Regulus pushed his hand against the boy’s chest, holding him back. He looked at Sirius, all skin, all teeth. No, he hadn’t gone soft; he was more insane than he’d ever been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Harry, be quiet!” he heard Granger hiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!” Potter shouted, struggling even more against them. Despite his efforts, he was no match for two other students and a fully grown man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Potter, stop,” Regulus snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I’LL KILL YOU!” he continued, eyes locked on Sirius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Enough!” Regulus turned to his brother. “What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    Please say the cloak</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t say Potter. You can’t say Potter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>    “My revenge,” he growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “And what could James have possibly done to you to warrant this?” Regulus asked, desperate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>James</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he hissed. From below, there was the faint sound of footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “WE’RE UP HERE!” Granger yelled. “WE’RE UP HERE -- SIRIUS BLACK -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>QUICK</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Footsteps thumped quickly up the stairs. Sirius raised one of the wands, pointing it at the door. Lupin came skidding around the corner, wand out. He glanced momentarily at Sirius, then pointed his wand directly toward Regulus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Step away from Harry,” he said. Regulus glanced back and forth between them. Sirius lowered the wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You’re working together,” Regulus breathed. “I can’t believe --” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Step away</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he hissed. “I know exactly who you are.” That was impossible, of course, but somehow Regulus believed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    He set his jaw. “I won’t let you hurt him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Lupin looked at him for a very long time before his eyes slid back to Sirius. “You switched, didn’t you? Without telling me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sirius nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Professor, what --” Potter began, but Lupin, lowering his wand, had walked over to Sirius and given him a tight, desperate hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The room exploded with noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” Granger shrieked. “You -- you --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Hermione --” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “-- you and him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Hermione, calm down --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I didn’t tell anyone! I’ve been covering up for you --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Hermione, listen to me, please! I can explain --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I trusted you,” Potter shouted. “and all the time you’ve been his friend!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You’re wrong. I haven’t been Sirius’s friend, but I am now -- Let me explain...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “NO! Harry, don’t trust him, he’s been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s a werewolf</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The shouting ceased immediately. She knew? How did she know? It had taken Regulus </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> to catch on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione. Only one out of three, I’m afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don’t want Harry dead… but I won’t deny that I am a werewolf.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    The silence was palpable. Eventually, Lupin spoke again. “How long have you known?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Ages. Since I did Professor Snape’s essay…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “He’ll be delighted. He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant… Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Both,” she responded, and he let out a single laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You’re the cleverest witch of your age I’ve ever met, Hermione.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I’m not. If I’d been a bit cleverer, I’d have told everyone what you are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “But they already know. At least, the staff do,” he said, his eyes once again falling on Regulus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?” Ron asked. “Is he mad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Werewolves are far from the worst people he has hired,” he said coldly. “Some members of the staff had to be convinced that I was trustworthy, but --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “YOU AREN’T! YOU’VE BEEN HELPING SIRIUS BLACK!” Potter yelled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> been helping Sirius. If you give me a chance, I’ll explain. Look -- give the kids their wands back,” he said to Sirius. After a moment’s hesitation, he obliged. Lupin held out his hand for Regulus’s wand, and that, too, was given away, although Lupin kept it for himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “There,” he said. “You’re armed, he’s not. Now will you listen?” The students spread out, fanning around the room with their wands raised. Lupin kept the wands at his side, appearing casual, but his eyes remained on Regulus, thoughtful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “If you haven’t been helping him, how did you know he was here?” Potter asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “The map -- the Marauder’s Map. I was in my office examining it --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You know how to work it?” Potter cut in. Regulus had no idea what they were talking about, but he kept silent, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Of course I know how to work it, I helped write it. I’m Moony -- that was my friends’ nickname for me at school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    It was, in Regulus’s opinion, quite possibly the stupidest nickname he’d heard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrote </span>
  </em>
  <span>--?” Potter asked.<br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “The important thing is, your friends were spotted rushing around the castle in distress this evening, so I thought I might check to make sure that you were safe. I couldn’t find you in the castle, but I saw the five of you on the grounds, coming back to Hogwarts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Five of us?” Regulus asked, at the same time as Granger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I couldn’t believe my eyes,” Lupin said, his tone deadly. “I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could you be accompanied by two dead men?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus felt his throat go dry. He knew. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Two?” Sirius said in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius Black</span>
  </em>
  <span>… I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping WIllow --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “</span>
  <em>
    <span>One</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us, can’t you count?” exclaimed Ron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “No, Ron. Two of you.” HIs eyes finally left Regulus, landing on Ron. “Do you think I could have a look at the rat?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What? What’s Scabbers got to do with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Everything. Could I see him, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Two dead men… Regulus watched as Ron pulled Scabbers out of his robes, Lupin scrutinizing him. It couldn’t be… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What’s my rat got to do with anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “That’s not a rat,” said Sirius, who was gazing at it with an intense, hungry expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “No, he’s not,” Lupin confirmed. “He’s a wizard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “An Animagus by the name of Peter Pettigrew,” Sirius added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    It was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiar</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Twelve years apart, and they’d already resumed the way they used to finish each other’s thoughts. Except James had been there, too. And Pettigrew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Wait, what?” Regulus asked, his mind finally catching up to the statement. “You can’t be serious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    It was perhaps a testament to how dire the situation was that Sirius didn’t pipe up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am, actually</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Peter Pettigrew’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> killed him twelve years ago!” Potter exclaimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I meant to, but little Peter got the better of me… not this time, though!” Sirius lunged toward Ron, but Lupin leapt after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Sirius, NO! You can’t just do it like that -- we’ve got to explain --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “We can explain afterwards,” Sirius growled, struggling against Lupin’s grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “They -- have -- a -- right -- to -- know! Ron’s kept him as a pet. Neither of us has the full story! And Harry -- you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Of course that was what got him to stop. Of course it was Potter, of all people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “All right, then. Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for…” Regulus tried not to think of Bella.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You’re nutters, both of you,” said Ron. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Lupin raised his wand, pointing it at the rat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You’re going to hear me out, Ron. Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “HE’S NOT PETER, HE’S SCABBERS!” he shouted, swaying unsteadily. Had his leg been injured? How had Regulus not noticed? Potter moved him to the bed, sitting him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die. A whole street full of them…” Potter said, staring at Lupin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “They didn’t see what they thought they saw!” Sirius growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter. I believed it myself -- until I saw the map tonight. The Marauder’s Map never lies… Peter’s alive. And he might not be working alone,” he added. For the first time since Ron had pulled out the rat, Sirius looked away, looking first at Lupin and then at Regulus. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. Sirius looked two seconds away from ripping him apart. Somehow, he doubted learning his identity would stop that. “Sirius --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Dumbledore knows!” Regulus blurted. “Dumbledore knows who I am, do you really think he’d be so stupid as to hire someone with such a weak backstory? We didn’t even settle on what my ‘blood malediction’ does. Please,” he begged softly. “Remus, please, you can’t tell him who I am. I’m on your side. I didn’t even know Pettigrew was a traitor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You could have fooled him,” Lupin said, if somewhat uncertainly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Is your faith in Dumbledore truly so low?” Lupin hesitated. “You don’t have to trust me. As soon as you get back to the castle, you can ask him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Fine,” Lupin said eventually. “I’m not giving you your wand back until then, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus relaxed. “That’s fine,” he said, although the thought of anyone else holding his wand for so long made him itch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Right,” Lupin said, lowering his wand and turning back to Ron. Regulus took the opportunity to uncap his flask and drink more Polyjuice Potion, acutely aware of Sirius’s eyes on him. “Where were we? Peter’s alive, and Ron’s holding him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Professor Lupin… Scabbers can’t be Pettigrew… it just can’t be true, you know it can’t…” Granger objected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Why can’t it be true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Because… because people would </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework -- the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there’s a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things… and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew’s name wasn’t on the list --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Lupin laughed. “Right again, Hermione! But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Running around </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hogwarts</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Sirius, Pettigrew, and either James or Lupin; how old had they been when they’d done this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “If you’re going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus,” Sirius said, harsh but without conviction. He was watching the rat, but every so often he would glance at Regulus with a curious, distrustful look on his face. “I’ve waited twelve years, I’m not going to wait much longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “All right… but you’ll need to help me, Sirius. I only know how it began…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Before he could continue, the door opened, creaking loudly. Lupin turned, walking toward it, and stepped onto the landing. “No one there…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “This place is haunted!” Ron exclaimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “It’s not. The Shrieking Shack was never haunted… The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me.” Which… okay, that made sense. A lot of sense, actually; Regulus was slightly annoyed he hadn’t figured it out on his own. “That’s where all of this starts -- with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn’t been bitten… and if I hadn’t been so foolhardy… I was a very small boy when I received the bite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Greyback?” Regulus wondered aloud. He was infamous for attacking children. Lupin glanced at him, his gaze frosty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Yes,” he replied icily before turning back to the students. “My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape had been making me is a very recent discovery.” Sirius’s head snapped toward Lupin at the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professor Snape</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he said nothing. “It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform… I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. Before the Wolfsbane potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren’t likely to want their children exposed to me. But then Dumbledore became headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn’t come to school… I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> I came to Hogwarts. This house, the tunnel that leads to it -- they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “My transformations in those days were -- were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor… Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don’t dare approach it…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black… Peter Pettigrew… and, of course, your father, Harry -- James Potter. Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her… I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth. And they didn’t desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    That was… ridiculous, and illogical, and infuriatingly sweet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “My dad too?” asked Potter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Yes, indeed. It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school --” Regulus sniffed. That was an exaggeration. “-- and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong -- one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Fifth year; the year before Sirius had run away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “That was incredibly foolish of them,” Regulus said, unable to help himself. “They’re lucky they didn’t end up mutilated, or in Azkaban.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Some of us </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sirius snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Lupin ignored them. “A werewolf is only a danger to humans. They would sneak out of the castle using James’s cloak, and transform. Peter could slip beneath the Willow’s branches and freeze it, and they would slip down the tunnel to join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did… And that’s how we came to write the Marauder’s Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What sort of animal --?” Harry asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you’d given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?” Granger said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “A thought that still haunts me. And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless -- carried away with our own cleverness. I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore’s trust, of course… he had me admitted to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others’ safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month’s adventure. And I haven’t changed… All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn’t do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I’d betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I’d led others along with me… and Dumbledore’s trust had meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort --” Regulus flinched, stepping back. “-- that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it… so, in a way, Snape’s been right about me all along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Snape?” Sirius spat. “What’s Snape got to do with it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “He’s here, Sirius,” Lupin said. “He’s teaching here as well. Professor Snape was at school with us,” he explained to the students. “He fought very hard  against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons… you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sirius snorted. “It served him right. Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to… hoping he could get us expelled…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Served him right?” Regulus snapped. “How is attempted murder the proper response to that? You were still at Hogwarts, he was a child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “He wasn’t a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sirius sneered. “He was sixteen. He was a nosy little blood purist who practically worshipped the ground Voldemort walked on. He deserved it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus fought the urge to flinch again, this time less at the Dark Lord’s name and more at the rest of the statement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Would you have killed me, given the chance?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “People change,” he said softly. “And I fail to see how murdering teenagers is justifiable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I don’t think he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kill him, per say,” Lupin jumped in, looking at Regulus with something akin to guilt. “Severus was very interested in where I went every month,” he explained, mostly for the students’ benefit. “We were in the same year, you know, and we -- er -- didn’t like each other very much.” Regulus stifled a laugh, and Lupin shot him a glare. That was certainly one way to sugarcoat it. He supposed Lupin wouldn’t want Harry to know about what James really had been like, to people who weren’t his friends. “He especially disliked James… anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping WIllow to transform. Sirius thought it would be -- er -- amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he’d be able to get in after me. Well, of course Snape tried it -- if he’d got as far as this house, he’d have met a fully grown werewolf -- but your father, who’d heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life… Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “So that’s why Snape doesn’t like you,” Potter guessed. “Because he thought you were in on the joke?” That, and years of prior animosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “That’s right,” said Severus’s voice. A moment later, he appeared, wand out, an invisibility cloak sliding off of him like rain. He tossed it aside. “I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow. Very useful, Potter, I thank you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sirius was watching intently, his teeth bared. It looked as though he wanted to leap at Severus, but Severus’s wand was aimed directly at Lupin’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You’re wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here? I’ve just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did… lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Severus --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I’ve told the headmaster again and again that you two are working with Black,” he said, nodding toward Regulus, “and here’s the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Severus, you’re making a mistake. You haven’t heard everything -- I can explain -- Sirius is not here to kill Harry --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Three more for Azkaban tonight,” Snape continued, although he didn’t seem to care much about Regulus. “I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this… He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin… a </span>
  <em>
    <span>tame</span>
  </em>
  <span> werewolf --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You fool. Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Without a word, cords burst forth from Severus’s wand, wrapping themselves completely around Lupin. He fell to the floor, and Sirius, roaring, leapt forward. Severus pointed his wand at Sirius’s forehead, the barest hint of a smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Give me a reason. Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will.” Without moving his head, his eyes slid toward Regulus. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not sure how you’re involved, but I’m sure the dementors will be more than happy to take you regardless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “In that case, perhaps you ought to hear their story,” Regulus responded, as calmly as he could manage. He fought the urge to do something unbelievably stupid, like tackle Severus, because he had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>so close</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- Sirius was here, and alive, and innocent, and if Severus hurt him… “It will explain my involvement entirely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Severus sneered. “I have all the proof I need. The details are irrelevant.” He turned back to Sirius. “Vengeance is very sweet,” he said. “How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “The joke’s on you again, Severus. As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle, I’ll come quietly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Up to the castle?” he purred. Regulus felt his skin crawling. “I don’t think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They’ll be very pleased to see you, Black.. pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “They’re not going to touch him,” Regulus hissed, stepping back to stand in front of the door. Severus’s gaze swung around. He looked half amused, half crazed, and there was still a bitter sort of triumph in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Do you truly think I can’t move you by force?” he asked, mocking, and several things happened all at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Flipen</span>
  </em>
  <span>--” he began, pointing his wand at Regulus as Potter shouted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Expelliarmus!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and Sirius tackled him. His wand flew into the air and he fell to the ground, struggling against Sirius’s grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Bastard,” Sirius growled, pinning Severus down by the throat. He reached to the side, picking up one of the wands that Lupin had dropped when he’d fallen -- Regulus’s -- and pointing it at Severus’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Don’t!” Regulus exclaimed, as the students each yelled their own protests. “You idiot,” he hissed, marching over. “Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go back to Azkaban?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sirius looked up at him, glaring. “Fine,” he spat. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Subito fugito!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he said, and Severus’s head fell backward with a thump. Sirius stared at the wand in his hand, unmoving, a slight frown on his face. “Here,” he said gruffly, handing the wand back to Regulus before crawling over to Lupin to untie him. Regulus snatched it back immediately. It wasn’t right, being without your wand for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Dully, he realized Sirius hadn’t held his own in twelve years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Thank you,” Lupin said, standing. “Now, Ron -- give me Peter, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Come off it,” he said, pulling himself away from Lupin. “Are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scabbers</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I mean… okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat -- there are millions of rats -- how’s he supposed to know which one he’s after if he was locked up in Azkaban?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You know, Sirius, that’s a fair question. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>you find out where he was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sirius reached into his robes, pulling out a piece of paper. It was a newspaper clipping; Regulus vaguely remembered seeing it in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prophet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. In it, the Weasleys posed in front of the pyramids. If he looked closely, he could see the rat on Ron’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “How did you get this?” Lupin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Fudge. When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me this paper. And there was Peter, on the front page… on this boy’s shoulder… I knew him at once… how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts… to where Harry was…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “My God,” breathed Lupin. “His front paw…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What about it?” asked Ron, still clutching the writhing rat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “He’s got a toe missing,” Sirius explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Of course. So simple… so </span>
  <em>
    <span>brilliant</span>
  </em>
  <span>… he cut it off himself?” Lupin asked. Regulus thought this was an interesting tone to take about mutilating oneself, but he kept silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Just before he transformed. When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I’d betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself -- and sped down into the sewer with the other rats…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Didn’t you ever hear, Ron? The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger,” Lupin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He’s been in my family for ages, right --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Twelve years, in fact,” Lupin pointed out calmly. “Didn’t you ever wonder why he was living so long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “We -- we’ve been taking good care of him!” Ron protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “They’re clearly not lying,” Regulus snapped. “So if you could stop denying it and hand over the rat, we can get to the castle and explain this to Dumbledore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “He’s right. Give me the rat,” Lupin commanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Force him to show himself. If he really is a rat, it won’t hurt him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Ron glanced over to Potter and Granger, and then back to Lupin. Eventually, he held out the rat, who began to squeak incessantly. Sirius went around to Potter, holding out his hand, and Potter hesitantly handed him Severus’s wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Ready, Sirius?” Lupin asked, looking up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I think so. On the count of three. One -- two -- THREE!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Regulus flinched at the flash of light that burst forth, illuminating and holding the rat. It was suspended in the air for a moment, but fell to the ground. Sirius cast the spell again, and suddenly the rat was changing, twisting, his form rippling into something human. It was grotesque, and Regulus resisted the urge to step away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    If the years had not been kind to Sirius, they had been downright cruel to Pettigrew. He had the same shrunken, malnourished appearance that Sirius had, and his skin was grimy and lumpy in a way that was distinctly inhuman. He’d always had a rather skittish disposition, but that had increased; as he rose, he glanced quickly around the room, his eyes landing on each of them and the door in quick succession. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Well, hello, Peter,” said Lupin, his voice deceptively calm. “Long time, no see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “S -- Sirius… R -- Remus… my friends… my old friends…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sirius raised his wand, lip curling, but Lupin stopped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “We’ve been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Remus, you don’t believe him, do you..? He tried to kill me, Remus…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “So we’ve heard. I’d like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you’d be so --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “He’s come to try and kill me again! He killed Lily and James and now he’s going to kill me too… You’ve got to help me, Remus…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Much to Regulus’s surprise, Sirius stayed silent, staring at Pettigrew with an expression Regulus wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on his face before. It was cold, and angry, and terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “No one’s going to try and kill you until we’ve sorted a few things out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Sorted things out? I knew he’d come after me! I knew he’d be back for me! I’ve been waiting for this for twelve years!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban? When nobody had ever done it before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “He’s got dark powers the rest of us can only dream about!” Pettigrew insisted. “How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Sirius laughed. It was the kind of laugh Regulus knew well, the only one he’d been able to produce from Sirius in years; the kind of laugh that made him say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop it, Siri</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it used to be that he’d stop, before he ran away, before they nearly stopped talking altogether. It was a grating, pointed laugh, ugly, mean. It was that laugh, and this time it was worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Voldemort, teach me tricks?” Regulus flinched, but Pettigrew recoiled as if the word itself were a weapon. “What, scared to hear your old master’s name? I don’t blame you, Peter. His lot aren’t very happy with you, are they?” Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus could see Lupin watching him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Don’t know what you mean, Sirius --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You haven’t been hiding from </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> for twelve years. You’ve been hiding from Voldemort’s old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter… They all think you’re dead, or you’d have to answer to them… I’ve heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters’ on your information… and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort’s supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they’ve seen the error of their ways… If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Don’t know… what you’re talking about… You don’t believe this -- this madness, Remus --” Pettigrew begged, turning toward Lupin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat. Or pretending to be dead,” he added, somewhat pointedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Innocent, but scared!” Pettigrew replied, sweat pouring down his face. “If Voldemort’s supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban -- the spy, Sirius Black!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “How dare you,” Sirius said, more a statement than a question. “I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter -- I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you? It used to be us… me and Remus… and James…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Me, a spy… must be out of your mind… never… don’t know how you can say such a ---”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> suggested it. I thought it was the perfect plan… a bluff… Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream that they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you…” Sirius spat, Pettigrew cowering more with each word. “It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Pettigrew trembled in the corner, muttering to himself and glancing quickly around the room. Regulus shifted, positioning himself more directly in front of the door. It was theoretically the only way out, but rats could likely get into places that people couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Professor Lupin?” Hermione finally asked. “Can -- can I say something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Certainly, Hermione.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Well -- Scabbers -- I mean, this -- this man -- he’s been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he’s working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “There!” said Pettigrew, straightening up somewhat and pointing at Ron. “Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry’s head! Why should I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I’ll tell you why,” Sirius replied. He’d seemed to have lost the urgency he’d had earlier; now that Pettigrew was here and cornered, he seemed content to explain. “Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort’s been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he’s half dead. You weren’t about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore’s nose, for a wreck of a wizard who’d lost all of his power, were you? You’d want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn’t you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren’t you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Pettigrew gaped at Sirius, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Regulus found himself growing restless. This was going on too long; they needed to get back to the castle and explain everything there, to Dumbledore. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione spoke first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Er -- Mr Black -- Sirius?” she asked, to Sirius’s apparent shock. “If you don’t mind me asking, how -- how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn’t use Dark Magic?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Actually, Regulus did want to hear this.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thank you!” Pettigrew was blabbering. “Exactl--”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Be </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Regulus snapped, and Pettigrew stared at him as though fully realizing he was there for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sirius was silent, looking at Hermione thoughtfully. “I don’t know how I did it. I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent,” he said, and Regulus thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me, too</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He had no idea how he would’ve survived the year if he’d thought Sirius was guilty. Sirius went on, explaining how he’d escaped Azkaban with his dog form, how he’d needed to protect Potter from Pettigrew, how he’d been living in the Forbidden Forest as a dog. “Believe me. Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them.” And that was it, wasn’t it? The thing that Regulus knew about him that even Lupin had doubted: that he would always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> choose James.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Harry nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No!” Pettigrew shrieked, falling to his knees. He crawled forward, gazing up at Sirius. “Sirius -- it’s me… it’s Peter… your friend… you wouldn’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,” Sirius hissed, kicking him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Pettigrew gave up on him, turning to Lupin instead. “Remus! You don’t believe this… wouldn’t Sirius have told you they’d changed the plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter. I assume that’s why you didn’t tell me, Sirius?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Forgive me, Remus,” Sirius said gravely.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Not at all, Padfoot, old friend,” Lupin replied affably. He rolled up his sleeves. “And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the spy?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Of course,” Sirius said easily, rolling up his sleeves as well. “Shall we kill him together?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes, I think so,” Lupin said, perfectly accepting of his role as executioner. Merlin, they took to murder easily.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You wouldn’t… you won’t…” Pettigrew said, crawling suddenly toward Regulus. “Professor… you can’t let them kill me… I’m an innocent… help me, please…” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin stared at Regulus warningly. And Regulus… really wasn’t sure of what to do. They should go back to the castle, probably; but Lupin knowing what he knew, Regulus wasn’t sure what he’d so if he suggested sparing the man, even if only for now. He should say </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, let them kill Pettigrew without a fuss, and avoid implicating himself further.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Curiosity overrode common sense. He slowly lifted his foot, using it to push up Pettigrew’s left sleeve just enough to reveal the tip of the Dark Mark. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Whose head bought you that?” he said softly, and Pettigrew whimpered, pulling his arm away and shuffling toward Ron. Sirius was staring at Regulus suspiciously. He shouldn’t have said that, but he wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Half-bloods didn’t get the Dark Mark over nothing; half-bloods got the Dark Mark after years of networking, and only if they had exceptional talent and loyalty, like Severus. A pathetic former enemy might have been allowed to be a spy, but becoming a Death Eater? That would’ve required something substantial.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He met Sirius’s eyes as Pettigrew crawled around the room, begging for mercy. Sirius studied him quizzically, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Regulus resisted the urge to fidget uncomfortably under his stare. Suddenly, Sirius’s head whipped around, toward Pettigrew.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY? HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Harry,” Pettigrew was whimpering, still on the floor. “Harry, James wouldn’t have wanted me killed… James would have understood, Harry… he would have shown me mercy…”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>In unison, Sirius and Lupin grabbed Pettigrew, throwing him to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You sold Lily and James to Voldemort. Do you deny it?” Sirius said.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can’t imagine… I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me --”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>“DON’T LIE! YOU’D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He -- he was taking over everywhere! Wh -- what was there to be gained by refusing him?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Dignity</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Regulus thought. The feeling of doing something </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the first time in his life. A noble death, except he hadn’t even gotten that, had he?</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed? Only innocent lives, Peter!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You don’t understand! He would have killed me, Sirius!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It wasn’t about that, Regulus reminded himself, digging his nails into the flesh of his other hand. It was about right and wrong, not betrayal. Not friendship. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sirius and Lupin raised their wands, and Regulus looked away. He couldn’t -- he’d seen death before -- seen murder before -- and he couldn’t watch Sirius do it. Not after the other deaths he’d seen. Not while Sirius’s face, gaunt and crazed, kept reminding him of Bella. He couldn’t stop them; he’d picked his side, and if this was what Dumbledore’s side did, so be it. He wanted to, though, despite everything. Pettigrew was a coward, and a Death Eater, and a traitor, but Regulus had been, too. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You should have realized if Voldemort didn’t kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter,” Lupin said, his voice eerily calm.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“NO!” Potter yelled suddenly, and Regulus turned back to see him leaping in front of Pettigrew. Regulus felt a strange, panicky sort of relief fill him. “You can’t kill him. You can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents,” said Sirius, shaking. “This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I know. We’ll take him up to the castle. We’ll hand him over to the dementors… He can go to Azkaban… but don’t kill him.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Harry! You -- thank you -- it’s more than I deserve -- thank you --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Get off me. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because -- I don’t reckon my dad would’ve wanted them to become killers -- just for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sirius and Lupin turned toward each other, having a silent conversation with their eyes. Together, they lowered their wands, turning back to Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You’re the only person who has the right to decide, Harry. But think… think what he did…” Bloodthirsty, as always. Sometimes Regulus wondered how in the world he hadn’t ended up a Death Eater.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He can go to Azkaban. If anyone deserves that place, he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Very well,” Lupin said, and seamlessly leapt into organizing their trip out of the shack, tying up Pettigrew, bandaging Ron, and animating Severus’s body, which was still asleep. Finally, he chained himself and Ron to Pettigrew to ensure that he wouldn’t escape, and they followed Crookshanks down into the tunnel. Regulus went behind Lupin, but in front of Sirius and Severus; as they walked, he could hear Sirius and Potter talking about their future living arrangements. He ignored the irrational, annoying spurt of jealousy that surfaced in his chest as they talked. They made their way out of the tunnel and across the grounds, walking in silence, until Regulus found himself abruptly crashing into Ron, who let out a hiss of pain.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m sorr--” he began, but stopped as his eyes fell on Lupin, convulsing in the moonlight. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“RUN!” he heard Sirius yell. Regulus shot a spell at the manacles, breaking the one binding Pettigrew and Lupin as he transformed. Sirius leapt past him, a dog, and tackled Lupin, biting viciously at him. Regulus backed away, looking around frantically; Harry and Granger were back a bit, away from the danger, and Ron -- Pettigrew had a wand. In a flash, Ron was knocked to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Expelliarmus!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” shouted Harry, as Regulus yelled, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Expulso!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Pettigrew flew through the air, landing heavily on the grass. Regulus opened his mouth to cast another spell, but he vanished, rapidly transforming into a rat.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin howled, and Regulus whipped around, raising his wand; but the werewolf had dashed into the forest, ignoring them.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sirius, he’s gone, Pettigrew transformed!” Harry called, and Sirius scrambled to his paws, dashing away into the darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re going back to the castle,” Regulus said immediately. “You cannot be out here with a fully grown werewolf rampaging around. We’re going back to the castle, and we’re going to explain everything to Dumbledore.” Much to his surprise, they didn’t object. “Right -- you help Ron, and --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>A distant, pained yelping interrupted him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Stay here,” he ordered, dashing toward the noise. He could hear their footsteps following him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The lake -- Siri was at the lake -- He could see him now, a man instead of a dog, hands covering his ears, pleading, pleading -- </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He stumbled toward Sirius, and the lakeshore </span>
  <em>
    <span>shifted</span>
  </em>
  <span>, turning from sand to rock. The lake spread out before him, inky black, and from its depths rose a corpse, wet, rotting, reaching toward him with long, pale fingers. It looked up, and it had his brother’s face. Others joined it, the corpse of his mother, his father, Fiona, Evan, grasping at his arms, pulling him forward --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He dug his fingers into the ground, and the feeling of sand propelled him back into reality. His breath was freezing in the air -- wasn’t it summertime? He felt hands gripping his face, and for a moment he saw the Inferi again, but his vision cleared and no, this was worse, this was a dementor, and it raised its hand to its hood, drawing it back -- </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus closed his eyes, letting the last of the fight leave him. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Subito fugito means something like sudden sleep -- the sleeping charm has no official incantation. </p><p>This chapter was... so hard to write, lol. I tried to rewrite it like 5 different times, but it just kept drifting back to the same thing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which assumptions are made, some of them correct.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Double update -- make sure you've read c7!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Regulus came to slowly, his head pounding. He could hear voices in the distance. For a moment, he thought he must be back home, with Kreacher -- but no, the bed was nothing like the lush, comfortable one at home, and his body felt… wrong, somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He froze, his mind rapidly coming to consciousness. The shack -- Sirius -- the dementors --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And this body, which he’d fallen asleep in before but never woken in. How had he not transformed back? His Polyjuice should’ve run out by now, unless he had only been unconscious for a short amount of time. He needed -- something, a moment to think, to figure out what was going on --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“WHAT?” he heard someone yell. Regulus debated turning his head into his pillow and going back to sleep, but instead he opened his eyes, pulling himself into a sitting position.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Mr. Potter! Stop shouting, you’ll wake -- good evening, Mr. Crow,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Potter, get back into bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Harry, Harry, what’s this?” said a voice, and Regulus turned to see the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Minister of Magic</span>
  </em>
  <span> standing in the doorway, Severus beside him. Regulus’s hand slid to his hip by instinct, and he felt a sharp spike of panic in his chest when he realized his flask was gone. “You should be in bed -- has he had any chocolate?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Minister, listen! Sirius Black’s innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can’t let the dementors do that thing to Sirius, he’s --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Harry, Harry, you’re very confused, you’ve been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we’ve got everything under control…”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“YOU HAVEN’T! YOU’VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Minister, listen, please,” Hermione added, rushing to stand beside Harry. “I saw him too. It was Ron’s rat, he’s an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You see, Minister?” Severus said coldly. “Confunded, both of them… Black’s done a --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They’re not Confunded,” Regulus snapped. “They’re telling the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Severus’s lip curled. “This one is Confunded as well. That is, if he hasn’t been working with Black the whole time.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Now, now, Snape,” the Minister said nervously. “Let’s not go making unfounded accusations…”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Severus sneered. “We’ll see,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. “Minister, Professor Snape, I must insist that you leave. Potter,” she began, but the door swung open before she could finish her sentence. Dumbledore strolled in, looking distinctly unruffled. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black --” Potter began, but Madam Pomfrey shoved a piece of chocolate into his mouth and maneuvered him onto the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“All of you, out,” she snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“My apologies, Poppy,” said Dumbledore, not moving, “but I need a word with your patients. I have just been talking to Sirius Black --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I supposed he’s told you the same fairy tale he’s planted in Potter’s mind? Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That, indeed, is Black’s story,” said Dumbledore calmly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And does my evidence count for nothing? Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That was because you were unconscious, Professor! You didn’t arrive in time to hear --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!” Regulus narrowed his eyes, rising, but the Minister spoke first.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Now, Snape,” the Minister said, “the young lady is disturbed in her mind, we must make allowances --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I would like to speak with the patients alone, “ Dumbledore said firmly. “Cornelius, Severus, Poppy -- please leave us.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Headmaster! They need treatment and rest, they’ve just now woken --” Madam Pomfrey demanded, flustered.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“This cannot wait. I must insist.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Madam Pomfrey stared at him for a moment before storming off.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The dementors should have arrived by now,” said the Minister awkwardly. “I’ll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I’ll see you upstairs.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Severus didn’t move, staring Dumbledore in the eyes. “You surely don’t believe a word of Black’s story?” he asked, with a dangerous calm that would’ve made lesser men cower.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I would like to speak with the patients alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen. You haven’t forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven’t forgotten that he once tried to kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Severus’s face twitched, but he said nothing, just turned on his heel and left. The door slammed shut behind him, and the two students immediately started professing Sirius’s innocence. Regulus just watched Dumbledore. Did he believe them? He had to believe them, or else there was nothing they could do. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore held up a hand, silencing the students. “It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me, because there is very little time. There is not a shred of proof to support Black’s story, except your word -- and the word of two thirteen-year-old wizards will not convince anybody.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What about him?” Harry interrupted, pointing at Regulus. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore didn’t look at him. “I’m afraid his word won’t suffice either,” he said, offering no other explanation. That was true; the more attention he drew to himself from the Ministry, the more likely they were to realize that Antares Crow hadn’t existed until last summer. And the word of Regulus Black would be more incriminating than the evidence itself. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But Professor Lupin --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Is unable to give his testimony at the time, and would be entirely mistrusted if he did.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Listen, Harry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It is too late. Professor Snape’s version of events is far more convincing than yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What do you mean, ‘it’s too late’?” Regulus demanded. “You’re the most powerful wizard in the world, stop the dementors!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I cannot directly interfere with Ministry proceedings. If I drove away the dementors, it would be the end of Hogwarts.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Then use your influence! Get them to -- to postpone it, or give him a trial --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“A trial in which two children and a werewolf defended him against a reputable professor, and the only other witness declined to testify?” he asked pointedly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You kept </span>
  <em>
    <span>Severus Snape</span>
  </em>
  <span> from going to Azkaban,” Regulus hissed. “The least you can do is extend the favor to your own people.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We cannot overturn the ruling without Pettigrew,” Dumbledore insisted. “We are too late. What we need,” he said, turning toward Granger, “is more </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But --” she protested before cutting herself off. “OH!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Now, pay attention. Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick’s office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. But remember this: </span>
  <em>
    <span>you must not be seen</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Miss Granger, you know the law -- you know what is at stake… </span>
  <em>
    <span>You -- must -- not -- be -- seen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I am going to lock you in. It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, one or two turns should do it. Good luck,” he said, exiting the Hospital Wing.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you talking about?” Regulus snapped, pushing himself out of bed and starting toward the door.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Harry -- er, Professor Crow, you too, come here, quick,” he heard Granger say. She had pulled a chain out of her robes, at the end of which was an hourglass. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What we need is more </span>
  </em>
  <span>time</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dumbledore had said. But it couldn’t be -- she couldn’t possibly have a device that dealt with time magic. Fourteen years ago such a thing had only been theoretical, and now he was supposed to believe it was being wielded by a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He crossed the room in a few strides, not objecting when she tossed the chain around his neck. She turned the hourglass over, twice --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>In a way, it was like going into the Pensive, disorienting and blind; but where there he was falling, here he was being pulled backwards, weightless -- no gravity, but motion. He barely had time to adjust to the sensation before he found himself standing again, the entrance hall around him. Immediately, he looked at his watch; nine fifty-five; two hours earlier than it should’ve been. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hermione, what --” Potter started, but Granger shushed him, pulling him into a nearby closet. Chain still around his neck, Regulus had no choice but to follow.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What -- how -- Hermione, what happened?” Potter asked. Hermione pulled the chain from around them, tucking the device back into her robes. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’ve gone back in time,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice quiet. “Two hours back.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But -- how --” he spluttered. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“How did you gain access to that?” Regulus asked quietly, not quite managing to keep the disbelief out of his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Professor McGonagall,” she explained. “I’ve been using it all year to get to all my lessons. She made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them that I was a model student, and that I’d never, ever use it for anything except my studies… I’ve been turning it back so I could do hours over again, that’s how I’ve been doing several lessons at once, see? But… I don’t understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. How are we supposed to help Sirius?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus tried to remember what he’d said to them, and what held significance. “One or two hours,” he said softly. “So nothing that happened more than an hour ago was important, but we could maybe use the extra time.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The window,” Harry said suddenly. “He told us which window Flitwick’s office was. We have to go back to the Common Room, get my broomstick -- he can escape on that!” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>In the darkness, Regulus could only barely make out Hermione’s frown. “Harry, your broomstick has been the talk of the school. People will notice that it’s gone. You’ve already publicly defended Sirius, it’ll be obvious you helped him escape,” she pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I don’t care,” said Harry immediately. “All that matters is that Sirius is okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>You don’t even know him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Regulus wanted to say. He didn’t even know him, and already he was willing to risk so much to save Sirius. He felt an unexpected rush of fondness for the boy.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Granger had a point, though. Getting in through the window seemed like the best option, but the broom wasn’t -- Sirius was terrible at flying, anyway. But what else could they use? If only Sirius’s Animagus form had --</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Wings.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Come with me,” he said, stepping out of the closet and hurrying out of the school. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Professor Crow, what..?” Granger asked, rushing after him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thestrals,” he explained. “You’ll learn about them in sixth year. We have a herd of them -- no one checks on them except me and Hagrid, and if Professor Dumbledore tells him that Sirius is innocent, he’ll believe him.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They skirted the greenhouse, on the lookout for nighttime wanderers. In the distance, by the Whomping Willow, he thought he could see their past selves making their way toward the castle. They stopped at the edge of the forest, and he lit his wand, turning toward the students. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s usually safe in there if you stick to the path, but with a werewolf running around, you two should probably stay here,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Wait!” Granger said quickly. “We -- we have time. You need to answer some questions first,” she said, straightening.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do</span>
  </em>
  <span> I?” he asked drily. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Who are you? Why are you so quick to defend Sirius?” she demanded. “What was Professor Lupin talking about back in the Shrieking Shack?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There are more important things to focus on right now,” he replied, turning around.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No!” Granger stepped in front of him, wand raised. “We need answers,” she said firmly, but he could see her wand hand trembling, just a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He sighed. “Sirius… was important to me,” he said. “That’s all I can say.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I saw you,” he heard Potter say, and turned to look at him. His wandlight illuminated the expression on Potter’s face, one he couldn’t quite quantify and certainly couldn’t understand. It was… realization, maybe; betrayal? Joy? Whatever it was, it was so intense that Regulus wanted to turn away. “The dementors. They were scared off by something powerful, by a real Patronus -- I saw it. I thought I imagined who cast it, but… it was you, wasn’t it? The real you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Don’t be silly, Potter. I was passed out beside Sirius.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes, but we’re here now, you must have cast it now,” Potter insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That can’t be, we aren’t supposed to be seen,” Granger argued. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus hesitated. The boy could be right -- he didn’t know how to cast a Patronus, but he’d never tried, so maybe he was capable. “Are you sure of what you saw?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes,” Potter said, the word almost reverent. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>How would he know it was Regulus, though? “And what… did you see, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The Patronus came galloping across the lake, and then it ran back to -- to you, and you pet it. I don’t remember anything after that.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes, but how did you know it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Regulus asked, annoyed. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’ve seen pictures,” he said softly. “Lupin said there were two dead men. And the way you tried to defend me from Sirius -- and how hard you’re trying to save him --” He cut himself off.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Who do you think I am, exactly?” Regulus asked, alarmed. There was definitely something happening here that he didn’t understand.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well… you’re my dad,” Potter explained, and Regulus felt his brain crash to a halt.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> your father,” he hissed automatically, so coldly that Potter took a step back. With effort, he softened his voice. “I’m sorry,” he amended. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m not James. And if I was, I would’ve been a pretty terrible father for abandoning you all these years.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Potter’s face fell, then flushed with embarrassment. “But -- I saw him -- my dad --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Mr. Potter,” Regulus said softly. “If you’re certain you saw him, we ought to go down to the lake. There is someone running around Hogwarts who looks just like James, and it isn’t me.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He watched as realization dawned on Potter’s face. “But -- I can’t produce a Patronus!” he exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And we’re not supposed to be seen!” Granger added. “It could ruin everything!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It seems like it saved our life,” Regulus said. “We can hide nearby, and if someone else casts the Patronus, we’ll leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Alright,” Granger agreed, although it was clear she didn’t want to. They made their way down to the lake and hid behind a bush; Sirius was already there, yelping. As they watched, he transformed into a man, stumbling. The dementors approached him, and even from here Regulus could feel the chill. He willed himself to stay in the present -- or the past, as it were -- by gripping the leaves of the bush, focusing on the sensation of rubbing his fingers against it. As he watched, he saw himself, in another body, run toward Sirius before falling to the ground. Granger and Potter followed soon after, shooting wisps of light out of their wands. The dementors closed in, and he felt Potter shift, leaving the safety of the bush.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>EXPECTO PATRONUM!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Potter yelled, and Regulus saw a great silver stag leap across the lake, dementors fleeing before it. It returned to Harry, and he reached out as the creature faded into the night sky. He jogged back to the bush. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“C’mon, we should get out of here before Snape comes,” Harry said.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Professor,” Hermione whispered, eyes still glued to the lakeshore. “Look!” He followed her eyes. Beside Sirius, his body was bubbling under the moonlight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Polyjuice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Without hesitating, he dashed away from the bush, dodging over the bodies of the students. He knelt beside his own body -- his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own body</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for once, not some stolen Muggle thing -- and uncapped his flask, pouring nearly all of the potion remaining within it down his body’s throat. His skin began to bubble again, transforming him back; that should last a couple of hours. He went to return his flask, but hesitated, taking it with him instead and darting back to the students. Less evidence for Severus, who was already sure that he was an imposter. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Granger yanked him behind the bush. “Sorry!” she whispered, mortified, but pointed behind him. Someone -- Severus, he assumed -- was walking toward the bodies, a stretcher floating behind him; as they watched, he conjured several more, lifting each of their bodies in turn. Regulus drank the last bit of potion in his flask, hoping it would last long enough for them to get back to the hospital wing. The students watched him curiously as he did so. When Severus had left, they returned to the Forbidden Forest, and Regulus started leading them toward the thestrals. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“So, if you’re not… who I thought you were, who are you?” asked Potter.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I assure you, that is none of your business,” Regulus said coolly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Professor Lupin didn’t trust you at first,” Hermione pointed out. “How are we supposed to trust you now?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Have I done anything to imply I’m not on your side?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’d say not telling us who you are is pretty suspicious,” Potter said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus bit back a sigh. “No amount of you pestering me is going to get me to tell you,” he said irritably. He checked his watch. “We have a little under half an hour, we need to hurry,” he added, picking his way over a particularly thick bundle of roots. The students fell silent, although he could very occasionally hear one of them muttering to the other. That was fine, so long as they weren’t interrogating him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Eventually, they reached the area of forest where the thestrals lived, which was less dense than most of the forest. There was a clearing nearby, but there wasn’t a need to go that far; the thestrals were already trotting up to him, probably expecting food. One of them sniffed Potter’s face, and he jumped. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What was that?” he said, waving his wand around to better illuminate his surroundings. He couldn’t see them, then. Judging from Granger’s expression, she couldn’t, either. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thestrals. They pull the carriages at the beginning of the year. Only… certain people can see them,” he said, not really wanting to explain the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh,” said Potter. “What if Sirius can’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He can,” Regulus said. He’d seen the Muggles die, at the very least. “Perhaps we should take two… . Mr. Potter, come here,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re going to be riding them?” Granger asked in a small voice. Regulus nodded, picking one of the more friendly thestrals. He helped Potter up onto it with some difficulty before turning toward Granger. She gingerly took his hand, and he helped her up behind him. Regulus swung on top of another one.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It had been years since he’d ridden a horse, and the time he had had been both infrequent and with a saddle. The skeletal body of the thestral poked uncomfortably into his thighs, but he ignored it, urging it forward. He could hear the students’ following him. It trotted forward, spreading its wings, and soon took off into the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It wasn’t like flying on a broom, but it may have been better. It was… more stable, for one thing, but it was mostly the way he could feel the wings flapping at his side that made it enjoyable. He fought the urge to reach out a stroke one, not wanting to interrupt the thestral’s rhythm. Instead, he guided it toward Flitwick’s office as best he could, pausing outside of the window. The thestral scratched at the glass, and he soon saw Sirius rushing toward it, attempting to get it open. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alohamora!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Granger said, and the lock snapped open. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“How -- how --?” Sirius asked, his eyes darting around them.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Just get on,” Regulus said, and he pulled himself out of the window, climbing awkwardly onto the thestral behind Regulus. They flew to the top of the tower, landing heavily, and Regulus and the students dismounted. Sirius caught his arm. “You have to leave, now,” Regulus said.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Who are you?” Sirius demanded. Regulus reached up, trying to pry his fingers from around his forearm. Sirius was staring at his watch -- his grandfather’s watch. They’d been told most of their lives that it would go to Sirius when he turned seventeen, but he’d run away, and Regulus had been gifted it for his seventeenth instead. “Who are you?” he repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You have to go, they’ll catch you,” Regulus pleaded. “Siri, please --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sirius dropped his arm as though he’d been burned, and Regulus realized what he’d called him a moment too late. “How are you alive?” he hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sirius, you'd better go, quickly --” Potter interrupted. Sirius glanced at him, then turned back to Regulus. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“If you hurt a hair on his head --” he began.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m on your side, you idiot man!” Regulus hissed. “Now get out of here!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sirius turned back to Potter. “Harry,” he began.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“GO!” Potter and Granger yelled together. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He trotted forward, touching Potter gently on the head. “We’ll see each other again,” he promised, and took to the sky. Regulus watched as he flew away. He’d known… he’d realized who Regulus was, unless, like Potter, he’d come to an entirely wrong conclusion. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We have to go,” Granger says. “We’ve only got ten minutes to get back to the Hospital Wing before Dumbledore locks up, come on --” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They hurried out of the tower, only narrowly avoiding Severus, the Minister, and Peeves on the way. They dashed toward the corridor that contained the Hospital Wing -- Regulus wasn’t sure he’d ever done this much running in one day -- just managing to make it in time to see Dumbledore emerge.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I am going to lock you in,” Regulus heard. “It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, one or two turns should do it. Good luck.” Dumbledore closed the door, lifting his wand, and the two students rushed forward. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well?” he said, glancing between the three of them.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He’s safe,” Regulus replied. Dumbledore smiled, listening at the door. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well done. I think -- Yes, I think you’ve gone too -- get inside -- I’ll lock you in --”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They entered, staring at one another for a moment before Potter and Regulus returned to their beds. Granger trailed after Regulus.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Professor Crow?” she asked. “What did you mean, before, when you said that Dumbledore kept Professor Snape from going to Azkaban?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well,” he began, startled. He hadn’t thought she’d paid attention to that, although perhaps he should’ve known better. “Well, Severus --” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey re-entering the room. “Did I hear the headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look after my patients now? Miss Granger, return to your bed immediately,” she said, striding over to Potter’s bedside and beginning to hand out lumps of chocolate. Regulus ate his gratefully, feeling suddenly exhausted now that he knew Sirius was safe. The students, on the other hand, looked completely on edge, and Madam Pomfrey glowered at them as they ate.  </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>From high above them, there was yelling. “What was that?” Madam Pomfrey asked, momentarily forgetting to be angry with her patients. It grew louder, more distinct; he couldn’t hear the words, but it was Severus’s voice. “Really -- they’ll wake everyone up! What do they think they’re doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Severus burst in, accusing Regulus and the students of helping Sirius, but Regulus ignored him. He couldn’t deal with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> right now, not on top of everything. When he’d stalked away and Dumbledore had begun conversing with the Minister, Regulus turned toward Madam Pomfrey.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Would it bother you if I returned to my bedroom for the night?” he asked. She couldn’t technically keep him here, given that he wasn’t a student, but he thought he’d rather be on her good side. “I will, of course, be resting.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She eyed him. “Fine,” she conceded, handing him several pieces of chocolate. “But only if you eat these.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus found Lupin midmorning the next day, packing up his office. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You’re leaving?” he asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin jumped slightly, looking up. “Severus told the Slytherins what I am,” he explained. “The parents will be protesting by this afternoon. Shut the door behind you, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus stepped out of the doorway, closing the door.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I spoke with Dumbledore this morning,” he continued. “He’s convinced that you’re trustworthy.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And you?” Regulus asked.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I trust his judgement,” Lupin said mildly. “And you tried to defend the children and Sirius, so I see no reason not to trust you.” Regulus could think of at least three, but he wasn’t going to complain. “Besides, we did hear about your defection, shortly before your supposed death. I do have to tell Sirius who you are, though, you understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus wandered closer, perching on a chair at the edge of the room. “I’m pretty sure he already knows.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Really?” asked Lupin in surprise, raising his eyebrows. “But you didn’t tell him?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Regulus paused, fidgeting. “You all called him Padfoot, right? That was your only nickname for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin studied him. “Pads, sometimes. I was never a nickname person, it was mostly James and Sirius who assigned them.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I called him Siri,” Regulus admitted, feeling as though the admission were a lot larger than it was. “And I called him that on the tower. And -- I think he might’ve recognized my watch, or maybe even my wand, I just -- he knew that it was me, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin hummed. “That’s good. I didn’t particularly want to be the one to explain it to him.” That was fair, in all honesty. He kept replaying Sirius’s reaction in his mind -- the </span>
  <em>
    <span>how are you alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>if you hurt a hair on his head --</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Well, Siri hadn’t seemed particularly happy to see him. It wasn’t like he’d expected anything else, but it stung anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thank you,” Lupin said unexpectedly. “I didn’t think… Sirius…” he trailed off, frustrated. “It hadn’t been good for a while. We were always so busy that we barely saw each other, and I was under a lot of stress, and I thought that he was the spy -- apparently, he thought that I was, too. I avoided him, I tried distancing myself from him… but even when I thought that he was betraying us to Voldemort, I couldn’t make myself stop caring about him. I only learned to hate him after Lily and James died… and even then, I couldn’t help remembering. And then I found out he was innocent. If the dementors had gotten him, after I learned that… after I spent more than a decade thinking he was guilty…” Lupin trailed off. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well,” Regulus admitted softly. “I spent a lot of time trying to hate him, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin smiled. “I’m rather curious about how you changed your mind about that, you know. About all of it, really.” At Regulus’s silence, he continued. “I don’t see any advantage to being friends with Hagrid.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Excuse me?” Regulus asked, bristling. What was that supposed to mean?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>“He’s a lovely person,” Lupin said quickly. “And I’m sure friendship with him is its own reward. It’s just that it doesn’t offer any additional advantages, and he’s a social pariah, expelled, possibly not even human. Befriending him isn’t very… Death Eater-ly of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“To the disappointment of many, I’m not very Death Eater-like,” Regulus responded, and Lupin let out a small laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You can be quite pleasant when you’re not dodging conversation, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Don’t get used to it, Lupin,” he said, more out of principle than anything. Of Sirius’s friends, he was by far the most tolerable; honestly, Regulus might even be beginning to like him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lupin looked at him, surprised. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> call me Remus, you know. You’ve been doing it all year.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Yes, but that had been Antares, not Regulus. He supposed there was nothing stopping him, but their relationship had always been one of distance and hostility.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Alright,” he eventually conceded, and Remus smiled again. “Where will you go now?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Remus shrugged. “I’ll find something. I always do,” he said, a touch of bitterness in his voice. They lapsed into a semi-comfortable silence, and Regulus wondered if he should leave. There wasn’t much more he wanted to say, anyway. He rose.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m glad you -- trusted me, back in the shack. And believed him,” he added softly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The evidence was there. He’s difficult not to believe,” said Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The Ministry of Magic would say otherwise,” Regulus pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yes, well… the Ministry of Magic doesn’t care for him the way I do,” Remus said, smiling. A suspicion began to creep into Regulus’s thoughts. He’d known that Sirius was into men since he was fourteen, but would he… with one of his friends..?</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Remus was staring at him now, confused. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And what way is that?” Regulus asked, cautiously, and Remus’s face instantly became guarded. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>A moment later, he feigned confusion, frowning slightly at Regulus. “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” he said. “Obviously the Ministry of Magic, as an institution, is not close friends with their prisoners,” he added, giving a strained laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>That was proof enough for Regulus. He had half a mind to push it, ask Remus </span>
  <em>
    <span>how long</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he looked uncomfortable enough as is. Besides, Remus might push back.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Nevermind,” he said. “Goodbye, Remus.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Goodbye, Regulus,” Remus replied, and Regulus nearly jumped at hearing his name. He left the room, winding his way aimlessly through the castle. Funny; as stressful as his year had been, he was pretty sure he was going to miss it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore found him at the top of the Astronomy Tower, gazing over the grounds. The lake looked docile from up here, beautiful. Regulus missed his Common Room.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Mr. Crow,” he said. “I suspect that we have a lot to discuss, but that, I believe, can wait. In the meantime, though -- are you planning on keeping your position next year?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>For a brief moment, he considered saying no, chasing down Sirius. “Yes,” he said instead. “Yes, I think I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dumbledore smiled. “Excellent. We’ve got plenty of work to do.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That's it, folks! I'll probably start posting book 4 fairly soon, although it will update at a slower pace -- I had completed this fic before I posted any of it, but I don't think I'm going to do that with the next one. Subscribe to the series if you want to stay updated :). Thank you so, so much for reading and for all of your wonderful comments. I know I don't usually reply to them, but I read them all and they honestly make my day. See y'all next time !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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